


A Change of Perspective

by DarkSakura



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Multi, Spoilers, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSakura/pseuds/DarkSakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a mostly-canon retelling of Dragon Age: Inquisition, but with a few what-ifs, headcanons, and alterations. What if one could have more than one romantic interest? What if one was an object of unrequited affections? What observations were made when the Inquisitor wasn't around? There are so many perspectives to investigate the story from that I felt compelled to write something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I am going to vomit_ , Iselan thought to herself, feeling bile rise in her stomach. She'd only been unbound perhaps a candlemark ago, and still she found herself confronted with more demons and creatures of the Fade. She'd made new allies, though the unmarked elf and the dwarf both struck her as odd. At least the two fearsome women no longer wanted her head or seemed to blame her for the destruction they were rushing towards.

What sickened her almost as much as the death around here was that _shemlen_ priest, Roderick, so she recalled his name being. Of course he would blame her. Humans always blamed the elves, especially those who happened to miraculously step out of the Fade and fall face first into ashes left by an explosion she survived.

Her stomach lurched again as the headed up the path towards the Temple. This path was direct, and it could save lives, Iselan told herself. She fought with all of her strength, closing the rift ahead with an increasingly easier flex of power. She fought back the urge to heave again, this time following Cassandra's voice in response to an unfamiliar man's call.

"Sealed, as before," the elven mage, Solas, said beside her. "You are becoming quite proficient at this."

"Let's hope it works on the big one," Varric said from the elf's side, catching his breath.

"Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift," the male voice from before said. "Well done." He stood tall, a blond man who'd clearly seen struggles in his life, wearing well-cared for armor with fur and wrappings of crimson.

Casandra shook her head, sword sheathed for the moment. "Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was the prisoner's doing."

"Is it?" the man asked, expression going between disbelief and being impressed. "I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here." His expression softened just a bit, taking in her strained posture.

"You're not the only one hoping that," Iselan managed weakly, forcing herself upright.

"We'll see soon enough," the human warrior replied. He looked away from the Dalish woman, going over the route with Cassandra, discussing where Leliana (the other fearsome woman, Iselan since learned) would be.

"Give us time, Commander," Cassandra requested, drawing her sword again.

"Maker watch over you," he told her, "for all our sakes." He turned, sprinting to catch up to an injured soldier struggling. He wasted no time in pulling the wounded man's arm around his shoulders, heedless of the blood staining the coat an even deeper shade of crimson.

Iselan froze where she was for the moment, eyes lingering on the human commander's back. She'd seem _shemlen_ soldiers before, but this attention and concern for his subordinates struck her.

" _Garas_ ," Solas said softly, breaking through Iselan's momentarily transfixed state. "We have a Breach to seal."

Iselan merely nodded, and she followed along, downing a restorative as she headed towards the ruin that was once the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She let herself slide over the edge of the cliff into the dried coals below, crunching the ground as her feet connected. Skeletal remains, charred to the same black as the ground below, reached out in a last futile attempt to save themselves.

"Such a tragic loss," Iselan muttered.

"Whoever caused this must not have given a shit about the people here," Varric observed. "Funny how often that happens, doing things without considering consequences. Had a good friend of mine learn the hard way about that. Daisy's thankfully taken it to heart."

"You'll have to tell me sometime, not just what's in your book," the elf said, and she continued along.

When they saw the Breach glowing a sickly green over the ruins that was once the center of the Temple, Iselan felt the nausea return. Everyone was talking, but she could barely register the words they said, eyes focused on the center. It was almost as if she could see beyond its core and into the Fade itself.

Iselan tore her eyes away, meeting the eyes of Solas instead as he tilted his head as if trying to figure something out.

"We should head to the center," Cassandra said from next to him, and Iselan nodded, wishing to turn away from the older elf's lingering gaze.

Once there, the group was greeted by a scene of the Divine strung up, pleading for help as a shadowy figure threatened her. Iselan saw herself running in, the figure threatening her, and the image dissolving.

"That was your voice!" Cassandra exclaimed. "What happened there? What were you doing?"

"I don't remember any of that," Iselan insisted, about to argue when Solas stepped in.

"The breach is closed, but it is unstable. The mark on your hand," he said to Iselan, "should be able to open and then close it properly, but while it is open, the Breach is vulnerable. Something may come through."

"That means demons," Cassandra realized. "Be ready!"

As predicted, when Iselan opened the Breach, demons poured out, including the biggest Pride Demon she'd ever seen in her entire life. The others covered for her, however, letting her disrupt the Breach to paralyze the demon so that the others could attack it unhindered. When it finally fell, Iselan focused through her exhaustion to focus the mark on her hand towards the tear above.

She was sure she saw it close, but a flash of green energy fed back on her. She saw darkness creep into her vision and then after knew no more.

\----

"You're telling me that you saw the Divine call out to her?" Cullen asked in disbelief.

"There, an image from the Fade, according to Solas," Cassandra replied, taking a drink from her mug of mulled wine. "

"And she did not falter?" the Commander pressed.

"Not at all. She fought bravely and without hesitation," the Seeker answered, watching her companion carefully as his expression turned from surprise to being impressed.

"Huh," he said simply, running a hand over his stubble. He'd seen fire in her in the brief moment they met, but this went beyond his expectations. "Do you know that people started calling her the 'Herald of Andraste'?"

"Yes, and I will not discourage them unless she dies," Cassandra told him flatly. "The people need to believe, need a cause to rally behind."

Cullen smirked. "And what do _you_ believe?"

"The Maker must have delivered her to us, providence of some sort," the Seeker admitted, "but was that Andraste that gave her to us specifically? I do not know. She is a likeable woman, a capable mage, and very determined. She would be an asset to us, even without the mark on her hand."

"I won't argue with that," Cullen said. "But a Dalish elf as a religious figure? I doubt she even believes in the Maker." He finally reached for his own mug, taking a deep pull of the warm spiced red wine.

"It does not matter," Cassandra said, her tone one of finality. "Iselan of Clan Lavellan is exactly what we need, and the clue to a bigger mystery." With a slightly amused expression, she quirked a grin. "And she is pretty."

"Quite so. I mean... Maker's Breath," Cullen sighed. The moment came back to him, the slight elven woman standing there, clutching a borrowed staff, her hair the deepest darkest shade of red he’d ever seen, a deeper shade than Leliana’s, and her eyes were the pale blue of ice. He shook his head, giving the Seeker an exasperated look.

Cassandra laughed at that, and might have said something else when there was a cry from the door, and a young elven servant came in.

“Sorry to intrude,” the girl panted. ”She’s awake!"

\----

Iselan dressed herself in the outfit waiting for her, idly wonder if they’d taken measurement while she was asleep in the oversized tunic she woke in. The outfit was clearly of Ferelden make, woolen and leather and fur, in varied shades of brown that reminded her of forests and stone. Clearly it’d been made for utility, though it carried a few stylish embellishments.

The staff she’d acquired earlier had since been replaced. Leaning against the wall was one of finer make with a serviceable blade and leather-wrapped grip. She strapped it to her back and made her way outside.

By the time she made it to the Chantry up the path, it was all she could do to keep herself from shaking. The people gathered around were calling her something horrendous, something worse than ‘knife-ear’ or ‘rabbit’. Herald of Andraste? Reverence? She could handle hatred, but worship? This was new, something Iselan was quite unprepared for.

Once inside, however, Iselan took a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the closed heavy door. A whispered prayer gave her a little strength, and she continued forward to where loud angry voices could be heard.

“Chain her!” that nasty awful cleric she’d met before said with a pointed finger. The Chancellor, Roderick, she remembered.

“Disregard that, and leave us,” the Seeker, standing at the table, ordered. The Templars at the door listened to her, and Iselan fell silent, watching the Seeker and Chancellor argue, the occasional points made by the other woman in the room, Leliana.

As discussion continued in the room, Cullen approached the door, pausing when he saw Roderick come stalking out of the room ahead angrily.

“Hold on,” the Commander said, turning on his heel to follow after Roderick. “What’s going on?”

“Heresy! Blasphemy! They believe the elf was divinely chosen, that she is not responsible for the Breach,” Roderick gasped. “And what’s more, they have declared the Inquisition reborn!!”

Cullen took a moment to let that sink in. He felt they would accept the elf into their ranks, of that he had no doubt, but the Inquisition? So it was official now. He knew it when he agreed to leave Kirkwall at Cassandra’s offer.

“Good,” he said aloud. “Then you’ll be heading off to Val Royeaux to tattle to the clerics?” Cullen didn’t bother hiding his smirk.

Roderick’s mouth fell open, gaping in shock, and then he closed his mouth with clenched teeth and continued his stalking path to leave the Chantry, calling for some of the lesser clerics to accompany him.

“Well then,” Cullen muttered, amused, and he went to knock on the door to the War Room to alert those within that he was entering.

“Commander, you’re in time,” Leliana said with a smile. “From your expression, I see you ran into Roderick.”

“I did, and know that you have my full support in this endeavor,” he replied. “That glorified cleric will be sending word to Val Royeaux, but we must not waver in our duty.”

“Indeed,” Leliana agreed with a nod. “And now proper introductions are in order.”

“Iselan, please allow me to present the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra said, but Cullen took the initiative, extending a hand to the elf.

“Cullen Rutherford,” he said, and the smaller woman took his hand firmly.

“Iselan of clan Lavellan,” she told him, smiling shyly. She lingered a moment, her eyes meeting his after a moment of hesitation, and she felt like time froze around them, lost for the moment in his warm brown eyes.

For is part, Cullen lingered as well, looking Iselan over. He finally smiled and withdrew his hand, turning then to rub the back of his neck. “I know we didn’t have time for a proper introduction. I’m glad to remedy that now.”

“Now that introductions have been made,” Leliana said with some amusement, “we do have some work to do. Shall we go over our plans? Also, Ambassador Montilyet will be here tonight, so my people tell me.”

As the group fell to work, Cullen watched Iselan as she listened to the points the more experienced people made, offered questions and thoughtful insights. Did Andraste choose this woman? He decided it really didn’t matter. Iselan of Lavellan would not shirk her duty. He could do no less.


	2. Of Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iselan speaks with Solas. Cullen gets prodded. (Not in that way!)

Iselan released a sigh. The Hinterlands, while pretty, was not exactly her favorite place. She’d been all over the place, scouting area for watchtowers, finding and removing strongholds of both rebel mages and templars, helping out refugees, and all sort of things. She felt like a glorified errand girl, if she were honest. At least they’d managed to get some of the rifts over the land closed.

Once Iselan had the help of Horsemaster Dennet secured, they could finally head back to Haven. One more night of camping near the lake, and their small group would be returning.

“You have done well for yourself,” Solas said after dinner, coming to sit by her on a log. Iselan had withdrawn from the group, sitting in quiet darkness to let her mind settle.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Iselan admitted. “I’m going where I’m needed, but truly, all I want to do right now is go to Haven and sleep in one of those ridiculous human beds.”

The older elf laughed softly. “Well, you have everyone fooled then, my friend. You have surpassed everyone’s expectations, even my own.”

“Are you so jaded?” Iselan wondered, turning to look at him.

“Experience does that,” he affirmed. “I am glad to be so surprised. For being Dalish, you think broadly, approaching things with natural wisdom and curiosity, dismissing nothing until it has been disproven. It is… refreshing.”

“We Dalish only have old traditions left, that and defiance. Culture binds us together, gives us strength and purpose. I wish you could meet those in my clan. Keeper Deshanna encourages us to find our own truth,” Iselan told him. “Dealing with that Mihris yesterday…”

“You do not need to dwell on her,” Solas told the younger elf.

“She called you ‘flat-ear’, and she acted with all of the nastiness I wish we Dalish could move past,” Iselan muttered. “I _loathe_ that attitude. Our City cousins are elves as much as we are. I’m starting to feel the way you live, how you study the Fade, is truer to what we could be than how both of the modern elven cultures.”

He said nothing for a long moment, his expression a combination of mournful and at the same time, impressed. “If only other elves thought as you do. Perhaps even as the Herald of Andraste, you may be a herald of things to come, a new age for the elves of Thedas.”

Iselan blushed. “If I can make things better for my people, I will gladly do it. Anything necessary, I’ll do.”

“Tell me something,” Solas said. “If you could bring the elves of Thedas back to glory, but to do so meant sacrificing the other races of this world, would you do it?”

She thought about it, her expression turning horrified when she thought of her new friends, specifically, Cullen. She’d grown fond of him, having joined him nearly every morning for his rounds of the fledgling Inquisition’s troops.

“No,” she answered. “I would find another way. Even if it took centuries, I would begin the work. To rise at the expense of another race would make us no better than the Tevinter of old.”

“Interesting,” Solas said. “Interesting and unique. You truly do think beyond those boundaries, _lethallan_. I wonder if your fellow Dalish would say the same.”

Iselan blushed again, pleased to find the elf calling her kin, a cousin. “When so many are looking to me to guide them, I must be more than what I am. I will not betray the trust of those who believe in me.”

Solas seemed transfixed, eyes fixed steadily on the woman beside him, looked at her as if she were a puzzle to figure out. He was intrigued, definitely, by the strong-willed creature beside her. He felt odd in that moment, something pulling at his memory, tugging at his heart, that seemed long forgotten.

“Well, then, my friend, we have a long trip ahead of us in the morning. We should go to sleep,” he said, standing. A hand extended towards the younger elf.

Iselan took the offered hand, standing up. She found herself pulled closer than she intended, a gentle hand coming around her back to steady her.

"Good idea. Good night, Solas," she told him softly.

“Sleep well, Herald,” Solas told Iselan, releasing her, and he turned to head back to the camp swiftly before she could see his expression.

——

If Cullen were asked if he were watching out for Iselan’s return, he’d tell the one asking they were being foolish and that he wasn’t. He’d also have been blatantly lying. The Commander came to look forward to Iselan’s visits with her questions and the answers to the inevitable questions he asked of her.

At first, he'd been interested to learn how the Dalish lived, how they fought, hunted, of their faith, and how they handled magical concerns. Iselan answered his questions freely, telling him that speaking of her people made her feel less homesick.

He'd never really understood homesickness, especially after he felt returning to his family was impossible. After what happened in the Circle at Kinloch Hold, he'd been reluctant to communicate, but found things to be a bit easier. He'd written to his older sister and heard back about his younger siblings and how the family fared in South Reach. While Cullen had never really looked back since beginning his templar training, he found a comfort in being back on Ferelden soil.

With drills for the day completed, the Commander took a seat on the stone wall by the steps leading into Haven proper, working over his sword with an oiled cloth. The sound of a horn took his attention, however, and his eyes darted up to see four horses with riders approaching, one with hair that reflected the colors of a deep sunset as a halo around her hair. He didn't even bother to suppress his grin, standing and waving to them before calling out for attendants to handle the mounts.

Iselan dismounted, rubbing her shoulders, and then she grinned when Cullen approached. She didn't realize how she'd missed him until she saw him again.

"How've things been?" she asked, tone friendly and relieved.

"No news other than dealing with limited word from Val Royeaux, all of it negative, I should said," Cullen said.

"Of course it is," Varric stated, coming up beside the pair. "For the record, dwarves really aren't meant to ride horses. Just saying."

"They make saddles for dwarves, Varric," Cassandra informed him. "Comfortable ones, even for smartarse storytellers."

"Perhaps, Master Tethras, we shall convince our Herald that moving on foot would be best, as you seem to be enamored of steep hills and rivers," Solas added dryly.

"Oh fine, everyone gang up on poor defenseless me. It's bad when even _Chuckles_ is getting in on it," Varric said. "I think I'm going to go see what Flissa is serving up." He excused himself with that and headed into the gate.

"I should check in with Leliana." That had Cassandra taking her leave as well.

"Will I see you, _lethallan_ , for our studies tonight?" Solas asked, tone light. For just a moment, it seemed as if an odd expression lingered in the narrowing of his eyes as he looked briefly at Cullen and then turned to Iselan.

"Of course. I've so much to learn of our tongue," she replied.

"Tongue? Oh, the elven language, right?" Cullen inquired, to which Iselan nodded.

" _Vi'dirth'vhen'an_ ," Solas affirmed. "The language of the Elvhen. Iselan asked me to teach her so that she could share the knowledge with other elves. I have been willing to teach any who wish to know."

"It's easier than expected, but Solas is a patient teacher when I run into tricky bits," the elven woman added.

"The language is in the blood," Solas said. "It only needs to be awakened. And now I shall take my leave. You will want to make your report, I am sure."

"See you after dinner, Solas," Iselan told him, and she remained silent until her teacher disappeared into the town.

"You are... close, are you not?" Cullen wondered, hoping he didn't sound like a jealous teenager.

"Closer than I thought we'd be, given his experiences with the Dalish," came the reply. "I've learned so much. I'm thirsty for more." Iselan shrugged. "Will you come with me to the Chantry?"

"Of course," Cullen replied, sheathing the sword he'd been working on. He opened the gate for Iselan, letting her walk ahead and then moving to go alongside her. He found, however, that he couldn't think of anything to say, but the silence between them was comfortable, companionable, and so he didn't break it. There were few enough of those peaceful moments, and he decided to enjoy it, noting his elven companion did the same.

The peace, however, did not last once they were in the War Room. Iselan gave her report, which a scribe copied down for Leliana, and then Josephine stood, speaking up.

"There are murmurings from Val Royeaux. I believe we may need to plead our case with the Chantry," the Antivan said.

"I should go myself, let them know they've nothing to fear from me," Iselan offered.

"No," Cullen said immediately, then quickly added, "You are important, necessary for the rifts and for the people here. We cannot risk endangering you."

"I am in danger enough wandering about the Hinterlands fighting demons and rogue templars," she countered.

"I will go with her," Cassandra offered. "I believe we can handle ourselves well enough there. I do insist on a week of rest and preparation, however. We've been in the Hinterlands for a while and the people need to see their Herald."

"Oh, the people have been eagerly awaiting her arrival," Leliana said smoothly, "some more than others." She sent Cullen a coy look, teasing him.

"Maker's Breath," he muttered. "We have work to do."

"Of course!" Leliana said brightly. "And yes, while I agree it is dangerous, I will have my spies there in secret to keep a watch out for danger. Iselan will be safe."

"It's... sweet of you to worry, Commander," Iselan said, though she wondered to herself if he worried for her for her own sake or for what she could do for the Inquisition.

"It would... it would be a dark day should anything happen to you," Cullen said, and he quickly changed the subject. "So I believe we have a new group of recruits arriving this week."

"Ah, I shall see to their housing. Surely the Quartermaster has more tents now..." Josephine continued on, making the plans, and Iselan made a note every now and again, but her mind was thinking back to Cullen's expression.

She continued thinking of it even as she excused herself, stepping outside to take in the fresh late afternoon air.

"Perhaps we should have allowed the Herald more time to rest before calling the meeting," Josephine said after Iselan departed, concern in her eyes.

"This is an opportune moment, however, to discuss an idea," Leliana said, looking thoughtful. "We are not without leadership, but we do need a single leader, a figurehead. Someone to guide the Inquisition forward."

"We have one," Cassandra said simply. "She just left this room. She has been doing the hard work for us, gathering people, making the contact that leads to alliances, and using her magic to do the Maker's will."

"Though she does not believe in him," Cullen added. "Aren't we already asking enough of her?"

Leliana smiled faintly, tucking away what she saw in the Commander's reaction for later. "We would ask little more than she has willingly given us, my friend. The topic may be tabled for now, but let us consider it, hm?"

"Agreed," Josephine said readily, not wanting an argument. "I believe we might stop for the night, too. Lady Penta... Cassandra, you also have been out traveling."

"I am fine, but I would like to see to my armor," the Seeker told the Antivan, finally letting herself show some of her fatigue. "I will see you all in the morning.

As the small group filtered out, Leliana touched Cullen's arm, indicating she wanted to speak privately.

"What is it?" he asked, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else.

"You are growing closer to our Herald," the lay-sister observed.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "She is... easy to talk to, and asks good questions. Her life is fascinating, and I've been pleased to call her a friend."

Leliana nodded, pleased. "I am close friends with the Hero of Ferelden. She is Dalish, did you know?"

"I remember her," Cullen said simply. "She rescued us at Kinloch Hold."

"And she is beloved of the King of Ferelden," Leliana continued. "You are not bound by the same duties as he is, and yet he and his lady have found a way." She moved abruptly, going to the door. "Think on it."

As the Nightingale closed the door behind her, Cullen looked silently after, wondering what exactly his fellow advisor was suggesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series here is a writing exercise, trying to tell a central story from alternate perspectives. I'm sure no one minds that it's Dragon Age. I may be a bit more sporadic in updating this, but I do promise to finish it.
> 
> I've also begun working on an original novel, not for NaNoWriMo, but for myself. I'm considering self-publishing. If any of you have critiques on my writing or anything helpful, I'd be most appreciative!


	3. Bull's Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian has a wander and a wonder.

Dorian Pavus, son of Magister Halward Pavus, had never seen anything so shabby in all of his life, and that was _after_ camping alone in the Hinterlands. Even the horrid Red Lyrium-infused future he went to in Redcliffe was more remarkable than Haven. At least there was warm edible food, and while he wouldn't admit it aloud, he was coming around to the taste of Ferelden ale. There just wasn't anything interesting about the village, and what's worse, it smelled of dog and horse.

"Never going to get this smell from my clothes," he lamented to himself.

"Might have something worse to worry about right now, you think?" a young Tevinter man in armor said from one table over, and he moved along with his bowl of porridge and tankard to sit across from Dorian. "Name's Cremisius. Call me Krem. Boss does."

"A pleasure. I am Dorian. You're one of the Chargers, are you not?" Dorian asked, giving the young man an appreciative look. "There's something that would make my father shit himself. What's a strong young outstanding Tevinter warrior doing following a Qunari spy?"

"Chief has done better for me than Tevinter ever did, and this way I keep my family fed, what I sneak to my mother," Krem said with a shrug. "No magic. I'd say you should know how it is, but you're an _Altus_ , so you don't really." He didn't say the words with any bitterness, only with honesty and acceptance.

Dorian's haughty expression softened some, revealing his more serious side. "All things I'd like to change. Tevinter is more than its mages."

"And slaves, and non-conforming citizens, but eh. Is what it is." Krem grinned, taking a long drink. "You should talk to the Chief sometime. Might surprise you."

Dorian shrugged this time, drinking more of the ale. He took note, with some disappointment, that the handsome younger man before him offered a sheepish smile and nod to the minstrel, Maryden. A pity, the mage considered; Krem was definitely a handsome enough fellow.

"So what should I speak to your Chief about?" Dorian inquired instead.

"Well, he knows pretty well what's on around here, might help you get settled. You look like a fish outta water," Krem informed him. "Scope the field out first, understand where the other pieces are and what they're doing, and you'll find your in."

"An excellent reason then, Cremisius, or are we friends now?" the _Altus_ asked.

"We _might_ be friends, Master Pavus," Krem replied cheekily.

"Let's be that, then," Dorian encouraged him. "Krem."

"Dorian," Krem said, agreeing with a nod.

The Tevinter mage finished his tankard, finding that Ferelden ale wasn't _that_ bad and that he might not be as miserable as he might have thought he'd be. With an almost-spring in his step, he bade Krem a pleasant day and went in search of the massive Qunari, The Iron Bull.

The horned man in question was currently talking with the younger Dalish woman, the touted 'Herald of Andraste'. He didn't exactly believe the elf was holy; listening to her curse after fighting soldiers of the Blades of Hessarian while at the Storm Coast destroyed any sense of virginal piety in her, moreso that she swore to the Elvhen gods when she did. Dorian, surprisingly, already decided he liked her after spending time together in that alternate future in Redcliffe.

"Dorian!" Iselan said, waving at the other mage. Her face seemed to light up even more as he approached. "I was about to go over some things with Cullen when our newest member started telling me some of the most fascinating things!"

"I was telling her some things about the Qun, about Par Vollen, the fighting in Seheron. She's a smart one, very perceptive, and I've kept her from her report to the Commander for too long," Bull said with a ready and easy laugh.

"I'm glad we hired you, Bull," Iselan said, and she turned with a polite nod to Dorian and headed off towards Cullen.

"What is it you call the people of Seheron? Was it ' _kabethari_ '?" Dorian asked, tone light, though Iron Bull could easily tell some of the strain behind the words.

"They could benefit from the order the Qun provides. I did a stint there. It was ugly," Bull said, letting his tone drop. "It's broken many a soldier. We call it ' _asala-taar_ '. Soul sickness."

"Were you among the broken? I find that hard to believe," Dorian asked.

"A long story, that one," Bull replied, not denying it. "But I'm glad I don't have to go back. I was hoping to speak to you, make sure you and I could work together."

"We can work just fine together as long as you don't try to convert me to the Qun," came the reply.

Bull laughed outright at that. "You? No, you're _far_ from Qun material."

"And no one thinks it's a bad idea to have a Ben-Hassrath spy among us?" Dorian wondered.

"Says the Vint. You know, the one fighting _other_ Vints," Bull pointed out.

"That's... not a terrible point. Okay," Dorian allowed. "On the same point, me being a mage doesn't bother you? Don't your people think we should all be bound and leashed?"

"I'd buy you dinner first." The Qunari smirked.

"Hopefully _before_ you sewed my mouth shut," Dorian retorted.

"Depends on how much you keep yapping about it," Bull said with a shrug.

"Okay, but you truly don't mind having a 'Vint' behind you?" The Tevinter mage still seemed to doubt.

"Hope you like the view. I could flex for you some, if it'd make you feel better," Bull said with a smirk, prompting the mage to groan.

"I think I felt better before you started flirting," Dorian muttered. "So very well, I'll play nice as long as you do. I met Krem inside; he seems a nice lad, and he vouched for you."

"Krem's a hell of a solider, and you're right. He's more than nice; he's as good a person as any I've met," Bull declared firmly. "All of my boys are."

"So you've a good eye for people," Dorian commented, and then winced at his own thoughtlessness.

"Yeah. Even gave up this one for Krem. He'll tell you the story sometime," the Qunari replied. He fell quiet, watching Iselan as she spoke with Cullen. "Look at those two. I guarantee they've got the hots for each other."

"Do you think so?" Dorian wondered, looking the human and elf over. "An odd pairing there. She's devoutly Dalish, and he's a Chantry choir boy through and through."

"Look at how they meet eyes and then quickly look aside," Bull pointed out. "He rubs his neck, and there's a deeper blush than just chapped cheeks. Her breathing as quickened; look at her chest rising and falling."

"Hm, so spy skills also make you a proper matchmaker then?" the mage teasingly inquired.

"Hah! Perhaps it could," Bull chortled. "But I don't think that other elf, Solas, approves. Maybe it's some sort of 'elves are all dying out' thing. Maybe he's jealous. He's a harder one to read."

"Indeed? What of the rest of us?" Dorian asked. He folded his arms, looking over Bull as if issuing a challenge.

"Sera's been well messed up in the head for a long time, a kid who does't know who she is or how to live with herself," Bull said at once. "She'll grow into it. Vivienne loves power and loves welding it. She seems shallow, but there's a well of depth and strength under it. Blackwall is hiding something; he understands war very well and has lived a good life once."

"I... I'm impressed," Dorian stuttered. "And you've only been among us a week."

"Should I keep going?" Bull wondered.

"No, thank you," Dorian replied weakly. "That's quite enough. I don't think I need to know more about our comrades, not without liquor involved."

"Suit yourself," Bull shrugged. "Back to Cullen and Iselan, though. Once they get past the nervousness, I think they'll find they're good for each other. He's been through hell. You can see it sometimes in his eyes, in the flinching at certain sounds or smells. He's been through _asala-taar_ without the benefit of re-education. He's done the hard work himself."

"And Iselan?" Dorian wondered.

"Dalish have hard lives, Dorian," Iron Bull explained. "Not like the slaves you Vints keep, but isolated, the burden of history they barely know how to keep, hunting and foraging, dealing with all kinds of non-elves who either want them gone or dead, enslaved, or converted to the Qun or Chant of Light."

"I suppose for obvious reasons, we never really had Dalish clans in Tevinter," the mage said after a moment of thought. "It's never really something that I'd considered."

The Qunari shrugged. "Why would that occur to you? You've never had a reason to consider it. Leaving Tevinter might be the best thing you've ever done for yourself. Traveling can't help but expand your world view."

Dorian shuddered. "This conversation has quickly become far too personal. I believe I will withdraw for now."

"Nice talking with you, Dorian. If you need a distraction, I'll be here to flex for you some more." Bull's remaining eye closed, his own version of a wink.

"Ugh," the mage groaned, stalking off. He hoped Flissa had something stronger than ale under the counter. He paused at the gate, however, looking back towards the Commander and the Herald, considering the expression they both wore. Smiles were on both faces, bright eyes focused on each other. Perhaps the know-it-all Qunari was on to something after all.

Dorian continued on his way, pleased to find that Flissa had a bottle of Tevinter wine that she gladly gave to the mage with a friendly if nervous smile. Of course, no one was around who'd drink it with him, and he partly regretted leaving the Qunari's company so soon. Instead, he found himself wandering up to where Solas stood.

"You and I got off on the wrong foot, Solas," Dorian called up, approaching. "Would you share wine with me?"

"I would not refuse," the elf said, nodding towards his cabin. Once inside, he closed the door and retrieved two thick glasses.

Dorian took a seat, pouring the wine. "Have I offended you?"

"If you have, why would it concern you?" Solas quirked an eyebrow.

The human looked frustrated, brows knotting. "Because we're here working together for a common cause, and because I respect your abilities."

"My abilities as a mage," Solas said, taking the glass Dorian offered.

The Tevinter man sighed. "Well, I... realize there's more to you than that." He took a long drink of his own wine, feeling a small pang of homesickness; this was clearly a good vintage.

The bald elf eyed Dorian sharply. "The differences between us are not technicalities to be discarded, Dorian."

"I... was hoping we might find common ground, that's all." Dorian let out another sigh, a slow exhalation, and he took another drink. "We are all products of our environments. Sometimes one doesn't see it until one is _made_ to see it, even as open-minded as we think we might be."

"And we do not all fit into a mold. I've not seen you practicing the blood magic people say is rampant in Tevinter," Solas pointed out.

"While we're sharing surprises, you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected," Dorian replied with some humor.

Solas cracked a smile, expression softening some. "Tevinter lore about elves remains accurate as always," he deadpanned dryly.

"I wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song, just once," Dorian lamented dramatically.

The elf finally snorted once, grinning into his wine glass. "Far better than being asked if I've 'pissed magic'," he lamented.

"Sera, I gather?" Dorian inquired.

"Oh yes. And put Blackwall with her, and they are as children. It's really bothersome, but Iselan seems to like them both," Solas replied. "For her, I will abide."

Dorian took another drink, setting down his glass. "You seem to care a good deal for her. She is lovely, is she not?"

"She is, and she's smart, resourceful, and thinks far beyond her Dalish upbringing. I find her surprisingly admirable," Solas readily replied. "I was pleased to find her so willing to learn, and now I am also pleased to call her my friend."

" _Friend_ ," the human repeated.

Solas raised an eyebrow. "Just because she and I are both elves, interested in the opposite sex, and think highly of each other that it must surely mean there is romantic interest? Such a failing of human romanticism."

Dorian smirked. "You were terribly quick to deny it."

"Better to still such notions," the elf replied. "But yes, I do care for her. She is an unexpected source of joy in my life. I would see her protected, if I can."

"Very well," the Tevinter man said, letting it drop. "So, then, that little flare you sometimes do with your staff. You're redirecting ambient energy to your personal aura? Is that not a Tevinter technique?" 

"It is not," Solas replied. "It's elven." And with that, the two mages continued discussing Tevinter magic and its origins and variations from elven technique. This, at least, was far more comfortable territory for Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write. I love Dorian and Iron Bull, so I wanted to explore the start of their relationship some. Some of the dialogue is taken from their banter, as is some of the dialogue with Solas.
> 
> Also, if anyone is curious, this is Iselan.


	4. Dragonlanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is closed. No time for a party!

When Iselan closed the Breach, she expected it to knock her out as it did the time before. Coming through it with just being blown over was far better, even though her tailbone was sore from connecting with the hard ground underneath. Still, the joy on the faces around her were enough to make her forget her sore rear in favor of the excitement around her.

As she and her 'circle', as they were becoming known, descended the path away from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, song broke out, cheering echoed against the stone, but she couldn't join along, not with the serious and thoughtful expression Solas wore. She gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head.

"Something seems odd to me, but do not let my musing and paranoia darken your mood, my friend," he told Iselan gently. "You have earned a night to relax. Go, make merry. Tomorrow is yet another day."

Still, it didn't sit well with her, but Iselan erected a mask to hide her concern and decided to enjoy herself.

Just beyond the Temple proper stood Cullen, ready with the former Templars who'd joined the Inquisition. When he saw no abominations and only smiling faces, he allowed himself to relax, even let out a relieved grin of his own.

"It's closed?" he still asked, only a touch of his wariness remaining.

"Closed," Iselan affirmed, "though we still should be watchful, I think our people have earned a night of celebration, yes?"

"Indeed," the Commander agreed, and with that, he ordered his soldiers down the hill. The good news traveled quickly; a party was already starting, no doubt, due to Josephine's planning.

Iselan found herself pulled around, her hair braided and rebraided, winter herbs and dried blossoms tucked into the strands with colorful ribbons. She sang, she danced, she laughed, but the attention was more draining than the actual activity. The elf politely withdrew when she could, seeking Cassandra's company to discuss things quietly. The two women only had those few moments of peace before it came crashing down around them.

\----

"Damn it," Cullen swore for what Leliana was sure had to be the fiftieth time that candlemark. " _Please_ , Maker, the flares must still be burning," he added in a whispered prayer.

"She is stubborn, Cullen," Leliana said. "A fighter to her core. She will make it. Solas said he left 'friends' along the way to guide her. I hope they remain focused on their task."

The former Templar said nothing, only made a brief nod and a sort-of grunt in acknowledgement, then returned to his vigil.

The spymaster turned away, walking away from the opening in the rock wall the escapees sought refuge behind. She wasn't going to waste her time arguing with her comrade, knowing he wouldn't back down, even if he fell asleep standing there. Leliana was already irritated with the entire situation, the unknowns, the uncertainty, but she'd lived through a Blight. Whatever this Elder One was, he couldn't be worse than a Blight... could he?

Her wandering took her to the one person she found to be the biggest enigma of all: Solas. He'd been seen wandering among the injured, healing those he could, but now he was alone, sitting at the back end of a tent, his hands cupped and held out before him as if looking into an invisible crystal ball.

"The Revered Mother was most happy for your assistance," Leliana said, sitting across from him. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No," Solas said simply, clasping his hands together. "I was merely contemplating the orb our enemy carries with him, searching through my memories of the Fade for answers. It is a foci of some sort, clearly, but it seems familiar." He paused, tilting his head to the side and allowing a mildly sheepish expression to touch his face. "And I was thinking of Iselan."

"Were you now?" Leliana asked, allowing the distraction. "You seem to care for her."

"As does almost anyone who meets her," Solas replied easily. "She has become important to me as a person, not just as a means to an end, that being closing the rifts. I never expected to find a companion such as Iselan among the Dalish."

"The Hero of Ferelden is Dalish, and a good friend of mine," the Nightingale informed him. "When we met, she was rather disdainful and distrusting of anything not Dalish. The more she saw, the more she experienced, the more she was willing to accept other peoples and other ways of life. I learned the importance of tolerance in watching her."

"Tolerance, you say?" Solas repeated. "Tell me, Sister Nightingale, what do you do when you encounter that which is intolerable?"

"I evaluate if it will damage what I _do_ find tolerable. A difference of opinion is one thing," she replied, "an action that will destroy lives is another." Leliana sighed. "In my position, I do not have the luxury of ignorance or inaction. I have, however, been proven wrong, been shown that mercy can be just as effective. Iselan herself stayed my hand when I'd have executed a traitor. Instead, the man became an informant and volunteered to remain under guard. His family had been threatened, and he was too frightened to speak to me."

Solas nodded, expression thoughtful. "Would the Hero of Ferelden have done the same?"

Leliana shook her head. "I don't truly think so, not now. She has become a harder woman, while Iselan is still a little naïve, idealistic. Then again, I would suppose we should hold onto our belief in a better world, in the goodness that can live in the hearts of others. Perhaps we should be the ones reminding them of it."

"This world has value," Solas prompted.

"As do the people in it," Leliana agreed.

The elf said nothing, only returned his hands to the cupped position, staring into his palms. He looked up again at Leliana. "Let us prepare a bed for Iselan."

"Let us... eh?" The human was confused until she heard Cullen's shout from behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the Commander running off, trailed by Cassandra and a pair of guards.

Solas merely smiled, and he moved off to prepare the cot for a new patient.

By the time Leliana had a druffalo bladder filled with boiling water, Cullen came over with Iselan unconscious in his arms, bundled in his coat for warmth. He peeled her out of it and laid her on the cot, letting Leliana tuck the now-wrapped bladder at Iselan's feet, helping next to remove the elf's boots and pull the furs over her.

"Move off," Adan ordered from behind, waving a hand to bring a pair of healers with him. "Need to make sure she doesn't lose fingers or toes. Elf's too stubborn to die at this point."

Leliana pulled Cullen away. "There's nothing further we can do now. She is alive. The Maker heard our prayers."

"He did," Cullen agreed. "I'd looked down for only a moment. If I hadn't looked back up when I did..." He shuddered. "It was her hair. It looked like blood on the snow. Iselan was stiff, cold, but I could hear her breath."

"I believe you should rest now, Commander," Cassandra said, coming to stand at his other side. "Do not make this a command of the Right and Left Hands."

The Commander let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "As you say, it shall be done," he teased them, and with that he wandered off to his tent.

"It's ridiculously romantic, don't you think?" Leliana asked. "He's smitten, I believe."

"Like something from one of Varric's tales," Cassandra said, and then she bit her lip in irritation at her slip up.

"No worries, my friend. I know of your love of romances, and I won't let your secret out to anyone," Leliana replied, her grin impish.

"Well, if anyone can keep a secret, it is you," Cassandra relented. "Come, we have much to do."

\----

James Jameson, known to his friends as 'Jim', had no idea what to think. One moment, the entirety of what was left of the Inquisition seemed miserable. Now they were all singing hymns led by the Revered Mother. Maker's Balls! He didn't really understand it, but it was a vast improvement.

"Deflated, defeated, destitute, but now hopeful, healing, yet harried still," a soft voice said from his side. "Chancellor Roderick is dead, but he heard the hymn. He felt its melody carry him to his Maker."

"You're the lad Cole, the one who arrived to help us," Jim commented.

"I am. You are Jim, the liaison who works with Cullen and Leliana," Cole stated.

"The one and the same, though it's a bit nerve-wracking from time to time," the man said, laughing shakily.

"The Commander's gaze misses nothing, bores into the soul until one forgets all but those brown eyes, the brown of the Tiger's eye ring father wore," the odd young man said. "He isn't here, and you won't be sent back to him."

"I..." Jim blinked, swallowing hard. He looked back over at the gathering, wondering what it was he was about to say, and then wondered why he was talking to himself when there was work to do. With a shake of his head, he continued on towards Commander Cullen to give his report.

"Ser," he said, announcing himself with more confidence than he felt. "Inventory's complete. We have supplies for a month, assuming we can hunt game. Sister Leliana's trackers did find a rabbit warren, and they believe they've found a bear cave."

"Good. We'll set up hunts tomorrow," Cullen said. "That's really better than I expected with how quickly we left." He looked over the report.

"The Maker is watching out for us," Jim commented, almost despite himself.

"Even for those who do not believe in him," the Commander agreed, looking off to where Iselan was walking back with Cullen. "Though we do make some of our luck ourselves. The Maker created his children with will and determination."

 _"Though stung with a hundred arrows,_  
_Though suffering from ailments both great and small,_  
_His Heart was strong, and he moved on."_

Jim spoke the words, and Cullen raised an eyebrow, both surprised and impressed.

"You've taken those words to heart," the Commander observed.

"There was a Chanter who would say them to me every morning, Ser, when I'd been chastised by my da'," the aide said, voice touched with a quiver. "My father was a strong man, a military leader like yourself, only very... harsh." Shut up, Jim! he mentally yelled at himself.

"Then he was not a strong man if he was cruel, and I fear for any who would serve under him, if that's how he treated you," Cullen stated firmly. "Now let's see if the Herald is done speaking with Solas and... oh, there she is!"

Iselan approached alone. Solas since retreated, letting, as always, Iselan provide the outward inspiration for his quiet direction.

"Solas knows of a place still standing, about two weeks journey into the Frostbacks. He is adamant that it is sound, well-fortified, and should accommodate our needs," Iselan informed him.

"Agent," Cullen said, turning to his aide. "Will we have supplies enough to start the journey tomorrow?"

"If hunting is done along the way, then yes, Ser," Jim affirmed.

Cullen looked thoughtful. Normally, seeing something in the Fade wouldn't convince him, but Iselan hadn't steered them wrong before. He trusted her, and she trusted Solas.

"Very well," he decided. "Agent, gather Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. We'll break camp after breakfast tomorrow and be on our way."

"Ser," the aide replied, and he left immediately. Seeing the Herald on her feet and confident, the encouraging words given to him by the Commander, and... what was it he'd been doing before approaching Cullen? It didn't matter. He felt energized, and proceeded on his way, murmuring another line of the Chant of Light.

 _"The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal,_  
_But know that the sun always rises."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been slow going. I’ve started on my novel, so that’s taken a bit more of my attention, that and some difficult goings-on. Throw the holidays into the mix and designing the guide for DerpyCon, and I've had little time for myself! 
> 
> I do still plan on writing more of this, but it'll be slow posting. Thanks for sticking around! If there are any side characters you want more perspective from, please leave a comment and let me know.


	5. Consumated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a budding romance to start the gossip!

Iselan watched Cullen's fingers as he toyed with the Tower on the chessboard. Her mind wandered, thinking about what those fingers might feel like used in other ways. They'd both just agreed that spending more time together was a good idea, and neither seemed to be in a rush to return to their duties.

"Iselan?" he asked again, snapping the elf out of her reverie. "You seem distracted."

"I am," she admitted. "I was so busy considering other ways we might spend time together that I was ignoring the time we're _actually_ spending together." She gave him a nervous laugh, cheeks flushing when he let out a hearty bark of laughter himself.

"Am I worth a moment of fantasy?" Cullen inquired, and then he colored, realizing what it sounded like.

"I'll admit... I've entertained those thoughts," Iselan told him, voice softening.

The blush on the Commander's cheeks grew. "Ah, well... perhaps this should be better discussed in private."

"Agreed, and... well, it's your turn," Iselan pointed out. "Make your move, Commander."

He blushed beet-red at that, but after consideration, he moved his Knight. "Check." He looked up across the board, meeting her eyes.

"I believe that's Mate, actually," Iselan breathed.

Cullen didn't bother looking at the board. "You may be right." The smirk that followed had the elven mage's stomach in knots and a fluttering in her chest.  

"Can... can we go somewhere private?" she made herself ask.

  "I doubt anywhere here is truly private, but we could go to the battlements for fresher air," the Commander suggested. "The bit just past my office?"

  "Away from where those particular recruits gather, yes," Iselan said, and she stood when he did, heading off towards the stairs leading up. Neither noticed they were being watched by an elf in the garden, looking up from her herbs.

"Well, that should prove interesting," she murmured to herself.

"What should?" an accented voice said from behind her, and she found the hand of Minaeve being extended towards her. "You normally seem too interested in your herbs, Elan."

Elan Ve'mal took the hand, standing up, and she pulled out a cloth for Minaeve to wipe her hand clean with. "Look at the battlements. Commander Cullen and our Inquisitor just had quite the game of chess, not really paying attention to the board, and have since walked off for some 'air'."

"Oh, they were flirting a bit at Haven, too. Good to see them finding some happiness together," Minaeve said. "She's kind, and I think he'd rediscovered his own kindness."

"Hm," Elan replied, walking over to gather a cutting of Royal Elfroot. "I reckon what they are doesn't matter to the other. Perhaps we need more of it."

"It's stupid anyway, holding onto such prejudices. I miss that about the Circles, you know?" Minaeve sighed. "No one cared who was an elf, much less if one was a Dalish throwaway."

"No, I wouldn't know. I'm not a mage," Elan said without heat.

"You might have been, ages ago," a gentle voice said from the side. "Am I interrupting?" Solas approached, hands clasped behind his back.

"Not really, just gossip over the Commander and Inquisitor. They're growing closer," Minaeve replied, a little shyness creeping into her voice.

"Ah," Solas said simply, and it wasn't clear if his expression was disappointment or resignation. "They work hard. Better they should take their happiness where and _while_ they can."

"That's not fatalistic at all," Elan said with a quirked eyebrow. "Then again, I reckon we're all not as safe as we might like to think. I'd certainly think that in these times, failure could be around the corner, but so many of us have faith in the Inquisitor."

"Iselan is a unique and remarkable woman," Solas agreed. "And while she is also very capable, she will still need your faith."

"But she's Dalish and hasn't forgotten it," Minaeve said. "She's humble."

"As many Dalish are _not_ ," Solas added.

"I suppose this is true. I might not get so many dirty looks from _lethalin_ if I'd made it to get my _vallaslin_." Minaeve sighed.

"You are not bound as they are, _da'len_ ," Solas told her kindly. "You have been freed from more than just the Circle. There is much the Dalish do not know about themselves, their origins. The truth is somewhere outside of what you think you know." He shook his head. "And I have drabbled on."

"Would... you teach me?" Minaeve asked. "You seem to know these things rather confidently."

"And you, Milady Ve'mal?" Solas asked the other elf.

"My responsibility is the garden," Elan replied hesitantly.

"What I have to teach would not distract you from your responsibilities. I can understand your fear," Solas said smoothly. "The unknown is often fearsome."

"No, I'll learn," Elan said. "But if you're to teach, you must also help me in the garden," she declared in addition.

Solas laughed. "Now that, I can do. It's been a while since I've gotten my hands dirty, as it were."

Minaeve actually giggled. "I don't know if you understand what she's gotten you into. Elan's a hard taskmistress."

"I expect this will be educational for us all then," Solas said. "Shall we begin?"

\----

Jim paced outside of the Commander's office that evening, holding a clipboard with some reports on it. He looked up forlornly at the upstairs window. "That's _it_. Sister Leliana can give him the other reports herself." A muffled moan followed by a thud could be heard from above, and the man shook his head to himself.

"Oh really, can I?" Leliana's voice sounded from beside him. "I suppose I may just do that in the morning." She deftly took the notepad, grinning up at the window. "It's about time. They've been dancing around each other for _months_."

"I reckon they could be happy together," Jim told her nervously.

"They could be quite happy, and should be. Oh, Cassandra will huff about this, make that disgusted noise she does, then go off and squeal to herself about how romantic it all is. And Josie! She'll want to throw a party or something." Leliana laughed to herself. "Go on, Jim, find something else to do other than eavesdropping on the Commander and Inquisitor doing unmentionable things to each other. And take this report to Josephine's office instead."

"Yes, ma'am!" Jim said, taking the clipboard again and all but ran away like a small boy being caught stealing sweets.

Leliana, for her part, was quite pleased with herself, turning to walk off when she noticed the balcony across the way, a figure standing in the open doorway looking directly at the loft above Cullen's office.

"Interesting," she told herself, making note of Solas' appearance there, and she went the other way towards the tavern. "I shall have to investigate more."

She pulled off her hood once inside, nodding to Cole from where he was perched precariously on the balcony rail.

  "Hello, Nightingale," he told her pleasantly.

"Hello, Cole," she replied brightly. "It's a good night, I think, and an interesting one."

"Blackwall fancies Josephine," he said abruptly. "Sera keeps trying to sneak in to see the new Arcanist, but now she's drinking with Krem while he's telling stories. The Iron Bull made Dorian blush and is quite pleased with himself.

"Perhaps I should hire you to be one of my spies," Leliana laughed. "You're so good at getting the juicy stuff."

"I hear it all," Cole said, tapping his head. "And you were thinking of your friend, the Hero of Ferelden, and of the King, who is also your friend."

"I was," the spymaster admitted. "Seeing Cullen and Iselan come together made me think of how awkward things were with Alistair and Sylhlani were quite awkward around each other at first, too. She was unfamiliar with our ways, and he was unfamiliar with women." She laughed, remembering. "He would rub the back of his neck so much we were sure he would develop a scar. And she always loved to see him blush."

"Now he is King, and she must be his lover, always in shadows, always in secret," Cole supplied.

"Yes. She should have been his Queen," Leliana said. "People are so foolish, holding onto their conventions like this. There is nothing wrong with having elf blood. She might have produced him an heir. Morrigan would have known how, I am sure."

"The Witch of the Wilds," Cole commented. "And an odd friend to have."

"If you can call her that," Leliana sighed. "She's in Orlais, at Celene's court, and making quite the impression as she tends to do in her own charming way."

"If Alistair is King, why doesn't he just marry Sylhlani?" Cole asked. "No one could stop him."

"But they would try, and it would endanger them both and any child they would produce, if it's even possible for two Wardens to do so," Leliana sighed, finding her good mood dimmed a bit.

"And she is away," Cole realized, catching the thought. "A cure for their condition is what she seeks, far, fleeting, far-fetched."

"So Alistair's told me," the spymaster said. "I think I could use a drink."

"Josephine will cheer you up. She's coming in now," Cole told her. "You can be happy for a little bit, Nightingale."

"I will try, thank you, Cole," Leliana told him with a weak smile, and she took a breath to refresh herself before she headed down the stairs to where the others were waiting for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry my posts are so far between, but work and real life have been kicking my butt. 2016 has also been a pain, given we've lost Lemmy, David Bowie, Alan Rickman, and Brian Bedford. Writing is therapeutic, y'all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculation and confirmation?

Cullen looked over at the figure huddled next to him. Iselan was in her underthings and one of his tunics, her framing her face as she slept peacefully. It was already an unusual courtship, he decided.

The previous night began with their declarations to each other, lots of flirting and suggestive commentary, breathless kisses... and then talking. A lot of talking. Most of the night had been spent learning about each other, about the experiences that made up who they were. While Cullen wasn't yet able to speak about Kirkwall or even his experiences at Kinloch Hold, he still found plenty that he could easily speak to Iselan about. She listened without judgement and found ways to relate.

There were even reasons to laugh. She showed him a trick involving massage and very finely controlled magical heat. He'd let out what sounded to him like a rather filthy moan when Iselan found a particularly tight bit of muscle; it'd been such a surprise that he quite literally slid off of the bed and landed on his rear rather hard.

 _Smooth there_ , he told himself, blushing a bit at the memory.

"You're staring," Iselan's voice sounded, waking him from the thought.

"And you're awake," Cullen replied. "It was nice to see you peaceful instead of overwhelmed and worried."

"I would say the same of you," Iselan said, yawning a bit. "Thank you for letting me stay the night. It's far more comfortable here than in my tower."

"I would think the nice expensive bed Josephine ordered for you would be more comfortable," he countered.

"This feels more real," Iselan retorted. "And, well, I'm more used to having people around me while I sleep. The _aravel_ was always crowded, and sometimes sleeping outside wasn't safe."

Cullen nodded, but then he frowned sharply. "People will talk," he said.

"I don't care if you don't," Iselan said. "Nothing happened, though I did technically sleep with you." She grinned impishly. "You talk in your sleep."

"Maker's breath," he sighed, though he couldn't help but find her grin infectious as one formed on his face in response. "I pray I didn't say anything embarrassing."

Iselan shook her head. "Nothing too bad, though. It seemed like you were having a nightmare, but you calmed down when I sang a bit."

"You sang to me?" Cullen asked, surprised.

"It was all I could think of to do, but it seemed to work," she replied.

He blinked hard in response, unable to form a response other than an astonished half-smile. When Iselan looked concerned, however, he shook it off, smiling fully.

"Good thinking on your part, then," he said. "Perhaps I should have you here every... night. Oh, I mean... not like that sounded, not that I wouldn't _want_... Maker's Breath, you're _laughing_."

"I can't help it!" Iselan replied with a giggle. "You're _adorable_."

"I am _not_ adorable," Cullen argued, but he still grinned.

"Adorable, but that's our secret," Iselan said, leaning in to kiss his cheek before she reluctantly pulled herself out from under the covers. "And I must go face the chatter and begin my day. Free your lunch time for me?"

"Today and everyday, if my lady wishes," Cullen promised.

"I do," Iselan replied, moving unabashedly to change back into her 'uniform'. She made a mental note to find something more comfortable and less beige.

\----

In the months that followed, Iselan was away from Skyhold for long stretches, though birds flew in and out regularly with correspondence between herself and the Commander. With little else to do apart from daily work, the residents at the fortress were free to speculate.

"So see, he's all super grumpy until the birds fly in and he gets a letter from Her Ladybits," Sera explained to their newest arrival. "It's completely stupid and lovely. I had a thought of flying in a bird with a letter, yeah? Letter just has an arse and some lips drawn on or something silly, just to get a rise, but I dunno. Maybe that'd just be mean?"

The dwarf sitting on the roof next to her nodded. "Sometimes the best pranks are more subtle, and the right ones are never really mean-spirited," Dagna replied. "I mean, I like a good prank on some jerk that has it coming, but not anything mean to someone good who has never done anything really wrong. Maybe something silly that gets them to loosen up."

"I reckon Cully-Wully up there is a good one then," Sera allowed. "Even if he sometimes has a tree stuck up his arse."

Dagna looked thoughtful. "You're talking a lot about him and Iselan. Just bored or are you interested in one of them?"

"Huh, what? No, just bored!" Sera declared. "Iselan is pretty, and I bet she'd be a great shag, but not really my type. And fellows? Nope."

Dagna grinned. "Then maybe I have a chance." Before Sera could respond, she continued. "I'll tell you what I've noticed."

"Tell!" Sera demanded, excited.

"Well, if I were you, I'd avoid pranks on the Commander that involve lyrium," Dagna suggested. "Here's the reason. See, Templars are trained in their abilities and really can use some of them without lyrium, but the lyrium makes it sooo much easier and stronger, see?"

"Okay, keep going," Sera nodded.

"People say he talks in his sleep, and look under his eyes. He's tired, but he also has these odd irritable moments, like withdrawal. We don't see him use many of those abilities, not like there's opportunity, but still. I think he's stopped taking the stuff."

Sera frowned. "Is that bad?"

"Depends," Dagna said. "He won't talk to me about it when I asked. I want to study the effects, you see? I want to know how it affects his health, dreams, that kind of thing, and what his magical resistance is like so I can make a rune or something of that nature to give people the skills without ingesting lyrium."

Sera blinked hard. "Okay, you kinda lost me, but I think it sounds like you wanna give normal people Templar powers with some magical doohickey?"

Dagna grinned broadly. "You got it! That's right. Could you imagine?"

"So people like me, smart people, who are afraid of magic, would have a way to get mages to stop around them?" Sera pressed.

"Something like that, but no Templar will speak to me about it," Dagna lamented. "And it may not be a good idea since people with very strong fear could use it to hurt innocent mages. Look at Iselan. Could you imagine one of her enemies doing that to her?"

"Don't talk yourself out of it!" Sera demanded. "This could be a good thing. I'm sure Lanie would agree."

"I'll talk to her," Dagna decided. "But maybe my observations about the Commander should stay between us?"

"I'm not stupid, you know," Sera said. "One thing to show he's people like everyone else, but another thing to give the people answering to him a reason to question his abilities, yeah? No, I can shut up on that."

"Good," the dwarf replied, and she pulled up her knees to her chest as well as she could.

"Come on, Widdle, what's got you down?" Sera asked.

"It's all so serious, all of this going down," Dagna replied. "I mean, I enjoy what I'm doing and having a great time with all the things I get to make, but wow, this impeding doom we're trying to hold off..."

"Yeah, I hear that, but keep working on your dangerous doo-dads," Sera said. "So why don't you show me..." She shuddered, then continued, "what you're working on."

Dagna's face lit up. "Come on! Actually, I'd like to see what you can feel from it, being an elf and all. Not that I'm asking you to be 'elfy', but I'd just like to see, you know?"

"Sure, whatever!" Sera said, trying to laugh off her nervousness.

The two left the roof, heading back to Sera's eclectic little room.

"'Widdle', huh?" Dagna asked.

"Yup," Sera replied, and she led the way out.

\----

"I've only dreamed of places like this," the Dalish man commented to his new companion, the two having just finished sparring to keep their skills sharp.

"So this is a dream come true for you," the lady Templar replied. "Isn't that exciting?"

"Sarcasm?" Cillian wondered, rubbing at his neck.

Belinda Darrow, a relatively recent Templar initiate, shook her head. "Not at all," she replied. "You said you lived in a cave for a while?"

"A shrine," the darker elf corrected. "But it may as well been the same for all of the worldly experience I gathered. There is much I have to learn of the world beyond my clan and the shrine."

"As your clanmate Neria tends to remind you, hm?" Belinda wondered. "I'll admit I've learned quite a bit with the Inquisition that have opened my eyes to more than what I learned in Starkhaven's Chantry."

The two unlikely friends made their way across the yard, chatting amicably, but soon found themselves stopping abruptly at seeing Cullen march out of the blacksmith's workshop. He gave them a small nod in passing, but seemed driven in his desire to separate himself from other people. As the door slid closed, both of them could hear familiar voices speaking.

"That was... abrupt," Cillian commented, turning to watch after the Commander's back. "I wonder if it was Seeker Pentaghast or the Inquisitor who brought that on."

"He may have already been in that state," Belinda replied. "I recall him being agitated this morning during inspections. Very sharp, but also easily flustered. He hid it well-enough."

"But you still noticed," the elf pointed out, urging them towards the tavern.

"I'm observant, and I've worked with Ser Cullen on various assignments," the Templar returned. "He's typically a very level-headed leader. Passionate, charismatic, but still level when he needs to be."

"Impressive and necessary for his position," Cillian told her with a nod. "But if he is no longer a Templar, why do you still call him 'Ser'?"

"He is still a Knight in our eyes and bears himself as one. He is what a Templar _should_ be, not what our order has _become_. Even at this time, while I answer to the Maker, I... do not answer to the Chantry. I should like to think he believes the same thing. To us here who serve, he deserves his title and every ounce of respect it commands."

"Fair enough," Cillian said. "For what it is worth, I agree, _falon_."

"I've heard that word," the Templar said. "What does it mean?"

Cillian favored her with a rare small smile. "Friend."

Belinda found herself smiling broadly in return. "I quite like the sound of that." She opened her mouth to say something more, but then the door opened again, and Iselan stepped out.

"Ser Belinda. Lethallin." Iselan managed a smile, but it was clear there was worries in her eyes. "Did you notice where Cullen went?"

"Towards his office, lethallan," Cillian said. "He did seem rather in a rush."

"Perhaps he might make time for you," Belinda added.

"Thank you both," Iselan told them, and she turned to walk rather swiftly to the stairs leading up to the battlements, taking the ascent at a run.

"Are your people often so familiar and informal with each other?" Belinda wondered, turning to Cillian with a raised eyebrow.

"Among clanmates, yes, and among other Dalish, mostly. Keepers and elders are granted some titles," the elf replied. "Why?"

"Usually those with titles are referred to as such as a respectful gesture or to prevent someone of higher rank from finding reasons to make your life miserable," Belinda said. "Perhaps I may be misreading something."

"If you saw genuine concern in her eyes, then you misread nothing," Cillian stated firmly. "I don't see her as being particularly guarded except when negotiating. In those times, her mask is as set as her _vallaslin_."

Belinda nodded after a thoughtful moment, turning to look up at the battlements for a moment. "If it is more, then... good for them, and may the Maker smile upon them."

"I'm glad you think so, because my people will not. There are fewer of us in the world than in the past," the elf sighed.

"What do you think?" the Templar wondered.

"I fear for our people, for the old ways, but her mark has forever separated her from the Dalish," he replied. "She is something more than we are now, part of a larger world, and has brought what she is into it. The things she has brought back from ruins has indicated more about our people than we ever believed, things that are almost... heretical."

"As have we learned about the Chantry. Our tales change with every telling until we are new and different," Belinda agreed.

"So then, if we are all wrong these days, then perhaps we can only follow her example, to change and grow and be better, and to not question the happiness our Inquisitor finds where she can," Cillian said, heaving another sigh. "Come, _falon_ , let's have a drink."

Belinda nodded. "Best suggestion I've heard all day."

The two continued on their way to the tavern without even noticing the figure who'd been eavesdropping on their conversation. He had, however, witnessed Cullen and then Iselan's departure, but stayed to listen to their commentary.

"How little you understand, da'len, and how little you know how correct you are," Solas muttered under his breath, and hurried on to find Cole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for my very long absence from writing, but I've had a crazy year so far with job training and having had wrist surgery (nothing serious, just painful). I hope my writing is still up to par and that you're still enjoying this story!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is stalkery and Iselan is conflicted.

In the Fade, he didn't look like the unassuming shabby elf everyone knew in the waking world, at least not this night. Solas took another guise, one he wore in years past, in hopes that that Iselan wouldn't see through it. She was clever, though, but he was much older and more experienced. Instead of the bald elf in shabby garb, this one wore shining gold armor and furs, long black hair in twisted dreadlocks pulled back hanging down his back, the sides shaved. His skin was ruddier, like it fit a wilder man. He carried himself proudly and regally. Solas stood up tall here, and he walked through the Fade towards Iselan's dream.

Her dream was a perfect pocket of nature; it contained a warm rocky stream bed, soft grass, the sounds of her clanmates in the near distance. It offered security with some privacy, and Iselan seemed to be most at peace when she could visit this place in the Fade instead of the usual images of locked-away memories.

In this dream, he was known to her as 'teacher'. In the waking world, she'd even asked him if Teacher could be trusted, and of course Solas advised her to exercise caution, but to learn what she could of her new friend in the Fade. Still, he was awfully quick to agree to her education, and she felt suspicious.

"Ghi'lan," she said at his approach. " _I hoped you would show. Since I began Dreaming, you've been ever the proper guide._ "

" _Your dreams called to me_ , da'len," Solas replied. " _You clearly have good teachers in the Waking world, but none can be as free to impart what you need to know as I. I have seen the people in your life through you; you have a very strong support structure in place. Rely on them, and you will not fall._ "

" _I have to rely on myself, too. I need to be stronger than I am if I'm to face Corypheus,_ " Iselan lamented. " _I just have to keep strengthening the Anchor._ "

Solas frowned sharply. Yes, she was correct, but in the end, what harm would this do to her? When his Orb is recovered, he told himself, he could absorb that power back, hopefully leaving her without the scar of its power burning through her.

"Ghi'lan?" Iselan prompted. " _What troubles you?_ "

" _Much does_ , da'len," he replied with a lingering sigh. " _I fear you walk a dangerous path, and I would like very much to spare you what waits. I am..._ " He paused, debating. " _I am quite fond of you. I treasure our time together. You are unexpected."_

Iselan blushed. " _I enjoy our time, too. I have someone in my heart, though, someone dear. I couldn't..._ "

Solas shook his head. " _Do not, dear friend. Only realize you are far more loved than you know. Come, let us return to work._ "

Iselan nodded, and then, just for a moment, her mind reflected on those in her life she loved and who loved her in return, feeling grateful but a touch guilty. Her relationship with Cullen was so new, and here she was still attracted to another man. Was it only because of being in the Fade? Was he even real? No, not likely. Cullen was real, and he cared for her. She reminded herself of this and pushed those thoughts aside.

Still, he was familiar...

" _Then,_ ghi'lan, _as you said, let's begin_ ," she affirmed and then waited for instruction.

\----

 

"I have to do _what_?" Cullen asked Josephine, eyes wide with what the ambassador could have translated as fear if she didn't know him better. Perhaps it was just surprise? That must be it.

"Attend a ball, of course," Josephine replied. "We will all be there in our finest."

"I didn't think we'd all be attending this thing," the Commander groused. "I reckon it makes sense. Unified front, making a presentation of the Inquisition, and experienced eyes. I..."

"You were not considering being there yourself. You would be Iselan's escort, her date. Why would you not be there with her? I understand elves are not regarded highly in most places but..."

"That's absolutely not it," Cullen interrupted, a bit sharper than intended, and he softened his tone as he continued. "I am proud of her, still mystified as to how she can put up with me, but no. It's only that I simply wasn't thinking about that, not with tracking down Samson and the other business on my plate."

Josephine nodded in comprehension. "Of course, Commander. We heap burdens on you, and at every turn, there is something new. But consider this, even if it is technically 'work', you will have the chance to enjoy good food and not look at maps for few weeks?"

"I'll be bringing my maps," Cullen replied. "I will be working from whatever accommodations we're put into."

"We have access to a villa outside of the palace in Halamshiral," Josephine offered in response. "Madame de Peugeot has given us leave to use her residence as she recovers from illness in Antiva."

"How kind of her," he muttered, certainly not looking forward to spending any time in Orlais. "Well, then, if you would prepare me a timeline, please, I'll make what preparations I need to."

"I have already done so," Josephine told him. "You'll be fitted for a formal uniform, as will the other men of our party. Well, perhaps a sash instead, if others wish proper formalwear." She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. "I will ask."

"At least you know what I prefer," Cullen stated, pleased he wouldn't have to wear any ridiculous outfit. Uniforms are safe and easy, he told himself. The thought of Orlesian fashion made his stomach lurch. "I reckon Warden Blackwall may be interested as well."

"Likely Solas, though he did prepare me a sketch of something he worked out with Iselan," Josephine said. "And no, you may not see. She wants to surprise you. I will say, however, that it utilizes the styles of the Elvhen, he assured me, while still being appropriate for modern tastes. Solas believes she may even start some new trends among the nobility."

Cullen was silent, trying to picture it. "I don't believe I have ever seen her in anything she didn't look lovely in," he replied, adjusting his posture on the overstuffed couch in Josephine's office.

"Are things... serious? Between you both, I mean," Josephine asked, more forward than usual.

Cullen gave her a nervous smile. "I would like for them to be. People already speak as though they are. We really haven't discussed much of the future, though we have both spoken at length of our pasts." He looked at his hands for a moment, thinking to how, earlier that morning, Iselan grasped them while beaming up at him. His own smile grew at the memory.

"Well, then," Josephine said, interrupting his thoughts. "I have seen all the answer I need. Do not hesitate, Commander. I see the same smile on her face when she speaks of you."

He cleared his through, though the pleased expression remained. "Well, if you are done with the romantic advise, we do still have work to attend to."

"This is true," Josephine sighed, though she didn't hide her grin as she produced another set of papers for Cullen to look over. "Iselan left this morning for Crestwood again with Varric and the Champion, Lady Alona Hawke of Kirkwall, though I suppose that title is in question."

"Not in my eyes. She deserves being called a Champion. It was her friend who quite literally lit the fire under the conflict between mages and Templars, but she did stop Meredith and returned peace to Kirkwall... for the most part."

"Oh, I as referring to her noble title," Josephine amended. "I have not yet heard from the provisional Viscount to her status. Regardless, I am curious to see who they are meeting with."

Cullen nodded firmly. "A Warden by the name of Stroud, a friend of Hawke's," he replied.

"Jean-Marc Stroud? I know of his family. A shame, what happened to them. I understand he was recruited by Warden-Commander Clarel herself," Josephine commented. "I wonder what he has to share with us."

"I'd rather not speculate. I'd rather have a firm answer," Cullen replied. He also mentally prayed to the Maker that whatever it was, it wasn't more trouble for Iselan. She needed more on her plate as much as he did, which was not at all.

"Returning to the topic of Kirkwall, we've received a petition of aid from Prince Sebastian Vael to annex it to Starkhaven," Josephine said, moving to the next page.

Cullen let out a heavy sigh. "I can tell you why. He wants to look for Anders, the mage that destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall. As I recall, before he was Prince, Vael was a lay brother in the Chantry at Kirkwall and was rather close to the Grand Cleric, Elthina. He took her death very hard, very personally."

"So this political move is more fueled by revenge?" Josephine wondered. "Interesting."

"Revenge and a lack of impulse control," Cullen replied. "I recall him being very hot-headed and quick to change his mind based on whatever happened at that moment."

"Some would call that the passion of youth," Josephine countered, "but I did not know him. I did know many members of his family. A shame, what happened to them."

"Hawke could tell you more about that than I could," Cullen assured her. "But my inclination is to tell him no. I'm sure once Iselan hears from me and from Hawke, she would agree."

"I will prepare a draft then, in anticipation of that response," the Antivan replied. "I do also agree, under the circumstances you described, that this is likely an act of vengeance, to search for this mage. It would not be the first time in history such actions have happened. If he decides to take Kirkwall by force, shall we step in?"

"We should send support to Kirkwall and help them fortify the place," Cullen answered after a moment of thought. "I do also think we should conduct a thorough search of our own and take Anders into custody if we find him."

"Agreed," Josephine nodded. "I will ask Leliana to prepare her people. She truly should be here for this discussion."

"She's preparing some intelligence for me. We're still tracking Samson down," Cullen told her. "Iselan brought back information that may pinpoint where to start our search."

"I know that means more to you than just for strategic reasons," Josephine said delicately.

Cullen shook his head. "Not for any reason I wish to discuss. I'm sorry."

"Do not worry about it," Josephine told him gently. "But please remember, we do care for you. Apart from being a colleague, you are our friend."

The pleased smile from earlier seemed to return. "That means quite a bit to me, Josephine. We do not alway see eye to eye, but I value our friendship."

"As do I, Cullen," she replied. "So then, shall we move on to the next topic?"

"Of course," Cullen agreed, and watched as Josephine pulled out the next report.

\----

Solas did not care for the Grey Wardens. He'd made it abundantly clear when he spoke with Iselan upon her return. For all of her progressive attitudes, for all of the willingness to learn, she could be so stubborn!

" _Fenhedis_!" he swore, digging his plaster knife into the wet lime plaster, patching a piece in place so that he could add pigment to it. This fresco should be calming him, not making him more frustrated, so he forced himself to calm.

"I'm sorry," a voice came from behind. He heard the sound of a soft thump, realizing that Iselan was on the settee along the other wall below.

"You have no reason to be," Solas said, finding the heat of his temper fading with her voice. He took the remainder of the time that it took to finish that bit of painting to bring the rest of himself under control, then set down his brushes and knives and climbed down. He remained silent as he cleaned his hands, and then carefully sat next to Iselan.

"You were angry," she finally replied when he settled down.

"I do not care for Grey Wardens. Blackwall is one exception, but you will be actively aiding them. They are... _wrong_ ," he explained lamely.

"The Grey Wardens of Orlais are hearing a premature Calling, the thing that sends them to the Deep Roads when the Taint in their blood becomes too strong," Iselan said simply, her voice low where only Solas could hear. "So Warden-Commander Clarel has been talking of using Blood Magic to kill all the rest of the Old Gods so there are no more Blights. It's madness, and Ser Stroud wants to stop her."

While his outward expression changed little, Solas clenched his fists tightly. This was something he had not anticipated, and the thought sickened him. "Then you were right to bring Stroud here. Of course we will help him."

"We'll be heading to the West soon to investigate a ritual tower," Iselan continued. "Will you come?"

"Yes," Solas replied without hesitation.

He fell silent, as did Iselan, both sitting there with nothing but the echoes of those above to fill the air. It hung heavy there, that awkward moment, until Iselan reached out to take his still-damp hand in hers.

"Please don't think I don't value your contributions. I do. I value what you have to say. I value and trust you. I..." Her voice faltered when Solas gripped her hand tighter.

"Things might have been different," he said, guessing at what her intent was.

"They might have been. When we met in the Fade..." Iselan touched her lips with her free hand.

"I have not forgotten it," Solas replied, voice low and close to a tremble. "The moment was as real as any in the flesh."

"Neither have I," Iselan said. "But then I grew closer to Cullen. Do you resent him? Do you resent _me_?" She turned to look at him.

Solas met her gaze, eyes locked. "I could never. My distrust of most people is fairly universal. There is much in this world that is false, a lie, and many who believe those falsehoods. Cullen may believe some of them, but he accepts most truths when they are presented to him. He treats you well and makes you happy in a way that I would not be able to maintain. No, _lethallan_ , I am happy for you."

Iselan smiled faintly. Solas released her hand, instead bringing his arms around her in a tight protective embrace.

"You will forever be important to me far beyond being the Inquisitor or the one to stop Corypheus. Remember that," he mumbled into her hair.

"As you will be to me, _falon_ ," Iselan told him sincerely.

" _Falon_..." he repeated. "No one has called me that in quite some time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! I wrote more! Anyone still here?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Bull, injuries, and Leliana.

Time froze around Cullen. Before his eyes, on the battlements above, he saw the crumbling pathway over the battlements. He saw it fall under Iselan's feet. He saw the air open beneath her and swallow her.

The jab of a blade at his side brought him back to the here and now, and his next action was to run through the Warden who managed to take advantage of the Commander's distraction to dig into his side with a dagger.

"Commander!" another soldier called. "They're falling back! Are you bleeding??"

"It's not deep," Cullen replied. "Repel them, round up the last of them. Find out what happened to Ise-- the Inquisitor." No, it had to have been an illusion, or she escaped somehow. He couldn't trust his eyes and... "Damn," he cursed, holding his side.

"Please, Ser, go to the medics. Rylen can handle this," the soldier pleaded, her voice concerned.

Cullen sighed. No, he'd be useless in his present state. "Very well. Relay my orders."

"Ser!" she affirmed, and darted off to do just that, stopping to help her comrades fight off a few stragglers.

He entered the tent, feeling a little dizzy from the blood loss. The pair of healers within took one look at him and immediately went to work, one giving him a sedative while the other worked at prying off his armor. They asked questions; he answered as best as he could, but the sedative and blood loss were already working in tandem to fight off conscious thought. At some point, his head hit a pillow on the cot in the tent, but he had little memory of movement, mind turning again to that moment frozen in time within his mind.

Iselan falling. Iselan swallowed by a rift.

The loss wasn't real yet. He couldn't believe it.

The last thing he thought before passing out was realizing that what he felt for Iselan truly was love.

\----

  
Alona Hawke sat on a stump, watching Grey Wardens and Inquisition soldiers working together to aid the wounded as well as regroup. An hour earlier, they'd been trying to kill each other. Damn Corypheus! The bastard didn't have the courtesy to die after she went to all of the trouble to kill him.

She kicked a rock and sent it rolling. No, it was out of her hands now.

Idly, she ran her fingers through her deep red locks, knowing there was blood and considering that no one would notice the blood since it matched. A snort escaped her nostrils, and Alona looked up.

Across the field, she could see Iselan emerging from the Commander's tent, face full of worry. Apparently Cullen took a hit to the side and was still sleeping off the sedative. The expression the Dalish woman wore was one Alona knew very well. A face in her memory rose unbidden.

Fenris.

She missed her grumbling wolf. He would have followed her into hell, yet she left him, as she told herself, for his sake. He could take care of himself, though, and seeing Iselan and Cullen, very clearly an item, fighting different fights on the same battlefield made her feel rather suddenly stupid.

Fenris could be here with her. Fenris wanted to be here with her.

"Maker's balls," Alona cursed.

"You freaked out about this demon shit, too?" a deep rumbling voice asked, and the massive frame of The Iron Bull sat in the dirt next to her.

Alona looked up at him, seeing a tired smile greet her curious expression. She managed a (hopefully) cocky grin and looked back at her hands.

"Nah," she told him. "I can deal with demons. They were all over Kirkwall. It's my own bad decisions I'm dealing with."

Bull nodded. "You had that whole 'battling your own mid' expression there. Heard a whole lot about you. They almost sent me to investigate, but then all hell broke loose and you hightailed it out of Kirkwall. Where's your boyfriend?"

"Giving Tevinter a huge headache by freeing slaves," Alona replied, remembering that Bull was one of the best spies in Thedas. Of course, he'd already know this.

"Good, stickin' it to the Vints. I approve," he laughed. "Gonna find him when your business is done?"

"Yeah, I think I will. I'm better with him in my life," Alona said.

"As it should be. See that poncy Vint mage over there?" He indicated Dorian with a nod.

"Mmhm," the human woman affirmed.

"Turns out he's not so poncy and is a lot better than a lot of his countrymen. Seems I'm better with him in my life, too," the Qunari confided. "Just goes to show. Things we never thought would happen are happening, all 'cause we're opening our eyes to them. World's changing around us, Hawke."

"That it is," she agreed. "Probably why everyone's losing their shit about it."

Bull barked out a laugh. "I know, right?! I mean, look. The Inquisitor leading both Templars, Mages, and all kinds of other folks with humans, dwarves, Dalish and non-Dalish elves, and even a couple of Qunari, not just me? Crazy!"

"And everyone works together well, even friends. Even... lovers," Alona added, thinking of when she saw Iselan emerge from Cullen's tent.

"Former Templar and a Dalish mage? Yeah, seriously," Bull stated, as if reading what was on the rogue's mind.

"A Qunari spy and a Tevinter mage?" Hawke added.

"A fair point," Bull laughed. "And here we are, gossiping like old ladies over a knitting basket. You know what? I'm fine with that right now. The shit we saw..."

"The Fade," Alona agreed, her voice hushed. "Stroud was my friend."

"Yeah, let's not talk about that shit," Bull told her. "Drink now, mourn later."

"Right," came the reply. She gladly took the ceramic bottle Bull slid her way. "I'm numb right now, to be honest. I was thinking more of Fenris. I'll have to go to Weisshaupt to make a report to the Wardens."

You better head to Tevinter first and retrieve your elf," Bull told her. "Speaking of elves, look over at Egghead over there."

"Solas, right?" Alona asked, and she took note of how he stood to himself, looking over the ruins of the fortress with a critical eye.

"He's got major hots for Iselan there. She's attracted, because I suppose he's smart, knows a lot about her people's history, and he's not unattractive. But, and it's a big one, Cullen's not being a devious shit and hiding things from her."

"You think Solas is hiding something?" Alona wondered, wanting him to elaborate.

"Oh yeah. He's got this knowledge, like I said. He carries himself like a prince even while he looks like a hobo. It's a ruse. I just don't know what he's playing. I don't like not being able to really read someone, not in my line of work. His intentions are good enough, but we'll see what comes of it," Bull replied.

"And what makes you think he's interested in Iselan?" Alona prompted.

"The looks for one. They're close. Body language shows they're both kinda into each other, but something got in the way and one or both of them drew a line that won't be crossed," Bull explained. "Probably Solas ended it before it could begin, and now he's kicking himself. Cullen there, I think, has lost so much that he's not hesitating to ask for what he needs or wants now. Solas would break her heart. Cullen will heal it. They'll heal each other."

Alona blinked hard, looking back up at Bull curiously. "You know a lot about people's minds and hearts, not just what's going on."

"That's what makes a good spy. You gotta get into people's heads and see what motivates them, what drives their decisions. Good leaders do it, to an extent. Tell me you didn't know what was going through the minds of the people who followed you," Bull expanded.

Alona huffed. "I clearly didn't know enough about Anders."

"Didn't know, or didn't want to know?" Bull pressed.

"Probably both," Alona told him wish a sigh. "He was my friend. He wanted more from me. I might have if not for Fenris."

"And here's why you understand Iselan's predicament," the Qunari said.

"And that's why you told me, so I can talk to her?" Alona asked. "Do you think Solas is going to blow up a Chantry?"

This time it was Bull's turn to snort. "I don't know, probably not, but he probably has some other plan. You'd be the one to tell our Inquisitor to keep her eyes open... and follow her heart."

"Follow her heart, huh?" Hawke repeated. "Maybe I'll follow mine, too."

"Maybe we all will," Bull said, looking up and across the field at where Dorian was washing his face in a basin.

"Go get him," Hawke said, giving the Qunari a nudge.

Bull grinned down at her. "Don't gotta tell me twice. Take care of yourself, Lady Hawke."

"You, too, The Iron Bull." Hawke grinned broadly as the towering Qunari stood and made his way purposefully across the field.

\----

Leliana stood out on the balcony outside of the Roost, the sounds of feet marching and horses huffing alerting her that the Inquisition army had safely returned from Adamant Fortress. Her trained eyes scanned the lot as they entered and dispersed, taking note that Cullen and Iselan were quite close, Bull and Dorian were both riding a rather large beast together, and that Alona Hawke was not among them.

"So she has left again. That's fine," the former Bard told herself. She liked Alona from the first time they met.

Turning around, she re-entered the building, going to a scroll she wanted to give attention. It'd come from an old friend who sent a request to offer his service to the Inquisition, but it'd also come with a private message for her alone.

_Dearest Nightingale,_

_I have dispatched those you requested of me, though I was a little surprised to see the list come directly from you. You have become harder, though still every bit the lady I remember. I miss your sweet voice and ample busom._

_In truth, I have thought of you more than I should admit. Are you sure the Inquisition won't give me an excuse to take refuge behind Skyhold's walls?_

_Yours always,_  
_Z_

Leliana sighed, setting the letter down. She did miss having her friend around, wanting to give him a secure escape from the Free Marches. Surely they could afford a couple of scouts to do that and pay for his services. She'd already secured coin for the assassin to take out proven traitors and nobles who were working for Corypheus in the background.

A small part of her hoped to find him in her bed once more. Only once was enough to burn Zevran's considerable skills and endowments into her memory forever.

 _Face it, Leliana. You're lonely,_ she thought to herself. With all of these people around her finding unlikely love, she felt herself becoming a little envious. This wouldn't be the first time her thoughts had gone back to that inn in the Free Marches city of Tantervale, where she'd had a run-in with her former companion. He had the only room at the inn left and invited her to share it.

 _Lonely and desperate?_ she asked herself, and then she shook her head. No, they were more alike than she would publicly admit.

Moving the letter aside, she looked to other items, such as the layout for the Winter Palace, pilfered guests list, and a book of research on each and every one of them. Josephine's notes were everywhere in addition to her own, offering insight into family lineages, alliances, and rivalries. Iselan would need to be informed on these people to some extent, if not for who to watch out for, but for simple interaction. Court favor would be almost impossible for a Dalish elf to obtain, and Iselan would need to have enough to even rival the Empress herself.

There would be much to do, and less time to do it. With that resigned sigh, she sent a runner to fetch Josephine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a few chapters of this written already, but things have been crazy here. Real life, right? Anyway, here you go, and I will make it a point to post the other chapters and actually finish this.
> 
> My own novel is still underway, almost have my world made and most of my characters created. It's very much like making a D&D campaign... by yourself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times at the Winter Palace.

Cullen was not a fan of Orlais. He didn't care for Orlesian food, Orlesian fashion, Orlesian attitude, or really much about Orlesian anything. The countryside was nice, but that was about it.

He was not a fan of formalwear and silently thanked the Maker again that he was allowed a formal military uniform, though he'd have preferred his armor and a weapon bigger than the dagger in his belt. There'd been talk of the ladies in their group also wearing uniforms; only Cassandra agreed to it. Of the men, Dorian wore something far more extravagant as befitting his Tevinter fashion sense, though he wore a sash like everyone else of the Inquisition out of uniformity.

A smirk touched his lips. Bull would be wearing a shirt.

"Thank the Maker," he muttered.

Even with all of the worries of what could go wrong and managing the safety of both the Empress and the Inquisitor, he felt a flutter of nerves for an entirely different reason. He'd be Iselan's escort, her date, to this event. Even if they were there on business, he couldn't help but allow himself a moment to consider the pleasure of being at her side, to be public.

"Cullen?" A soft accented voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to look at Iselan, but his mouth dropped open at the sight of his lady wrapped in feathery silks and gauzy fabric.

The bodice of her dress was criss-crossed in gilded wrapping, forming a tight corseted appearance. The sleeves were loose and held off-shoulder, and the long layered skirt touched her bare toes. The dress itself was a deep crimson, quite likely because she might have to fight in it. He caught a peek of gold wrapped around her feet to decorate them. Iselan's vallaslin seemed darker and more elaborate; it must have been embellished with facial paints or cosmetics of some sort. Over it was a sash matching the others of the Inquisition with the emblem pinning at to her hip.

"Is this all right?" Iselan asked him timidly.

"You are a dream," Cullen replied immediately, his astounded expression turning into a broad grin. "Like a fairytale princess. I daresay the Empress will be jealous of having to compete with you."

"Flatterer," Iselan teased, reaching out with her hand as Cullen approached to take it in his.

"Not at all," he assured her, pulling her smaller body into his arms. He turned his mouth into her neck, inhaling the exotic scent. Was it oranges? Something woodsier? It was perfect and suited her. "It's the truth."

Iselan allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, losing herself in the warmth of Cullen next to her. "Please tell me that I can pull this off. You will be with me. Everyone will be, but I am so... afraid. This is so new to me, and I can't help myself."

His breath fanned out over her neck as he released a sigh. He reached out for the word he asked of Solas, one he'd practiced for weeks before now being brave enough to try it.

" _Vhen'an_ ," he said against her skin. "You can do this. You are not alone."

Iselan's breath caught at the word. Clearly Cullen knew what it meant, but that he would learn it for her?

" _Emma lath_ ," she replied. "I will do this."

\----

"I do not know what to make of her, Mistress," one of the serving girls told Briala, standing just out of view of the nobles walking around. "She jokes and laughs with the Nobility, yet she keeps them on their toes. They find her fascinating. Her dress is also redder than it was."

"It's absorbing blood from fights," Briala said. "I have seen her at work in the Gardens. I find her quite fascinating myself, and depending on what happens this night, she may be the example our people need to once again be an equal part of the world."

"Yes, Mistress," the elven woman said. "I will continue to tail her?"

"No, no need. I think she shall make a move soon," Briala said, taking note of when the Inquisitor seemed to withdraw to discuss something with her group. "Gather our people safely."

Moving away, Briala slid through the people to approach the center platform where Duke Gaspard and his sister stood.

"Briala, the court has long been without your presence. It is unfortunate," Gaspard told her, smiling charmingly under his mask.

Florianne also smiled, but more as if she were trying not to be nauseous speaking to an elf in public. "Certainly things have been different here without our Empress' shadow."

"You may be surprised at what else may change," Briala told them both, not bothering to hide her own sly grin. She might have said more, but footsteps echoed over the ballroom floor as the chatter upstairs died down in shock.

Iselan stood a few steps below, and with little preamble, went into a series of accusations against the Duchess in full view and earshot of the court.

Oh, this was amusing! The Inquisitor practically flayed the Duchess alive with her wit, catching the noblewoman's words on every barb and turning them back on her. By the time it was over, Florianne was being escorted off by the guards for treason and Inquisitor Iselan Lavellan was being applauded by the court and the Empress.

"Fascinating," Briala said, proud of her fellow elf, and she moved to follow Gaspard and Iselan as they trailed behind Empress Celene.

\----

"They've been out there too long," Cullen grumbled, worried though he was still quite proud and still amused at the verbal takedown his lady love provided for the entire Imperial Court to see.

"Patience, darling," Vivienne said from his side. "She took a major gamble, and it payed off beautifully. She danced with her words as if she were born to it. I daresay she's changed The Game and opened up doors for more than just the elves of this land. I doubt anyone here expected her people were capable of such brilliant wordplay and cunning."

"You seem as if you were not expecting it," Leliana commented.

" _Au contraire_ ," the mage retorted. "I very much expected this of her. While you and Josephine have been educating her on who she would deal with, I have educated her on how to speak to them and, of course, giving her all sort of keys to their crypts of scandals."

"And of course you will benefit from things when she's done," Cullen groused.

"Of course, but we _all_ will. We earn little other than a military bully with Gaspard, but Celene, with the Inquisition's backing, will also give us military strength as well as backing from the elves of Orlais if Briala returns to her good graces. The little mouse has ever had her fingers in things," Vivienne explained. "Now do shush, my dears. They have returned."

Cullen looked up, taking note that Gaspard was shackled and forcibly marched out ahead of the others to join his sister in the gaol. Celene walked smoothly forward, her posture tall and proud. A few steps behind her was Briala, who did not bother hiding the pleasure on her face, evident even with the mask. The one he was most interested in, however, was Iselan, looking relieved and pleased. Her eyes seemed to find his across the room, and she nodded ever so slightly.

He didn't need to hear the speech to know of Iselan's success. Even so, cheers echoed out as Celene announced that they would celebrate the newfound alliances, and while there were shocked expression and gasps at Briala's words, there was a general air of acceptance. It would take time, but people would come around.

Leliana took note when Cullen slipped away to find Iselan out on the balcony, and she let out a sigh of relief, not realizing she'd been holding it in for most of the evening. She withdrew from the others to let herself relax and finally have a glass of wine.

She'd only just finished half of the beverage when a familiar voice sounded just behind her ear.

"My lady, I have looked all night for your company," he said, voice smooth with an accent that marked him as Antivan. "Would you join me in a dance?"

Leliana's eyes went wide, but she forced herself to calm down and set the glass of wine on the table next to her. With a slow turn, she found herself face to face with a silver mask with a pointed beak. It wasn't quite the same Crow mask she remembered, but it was enough to confirm the wearer's identity.

"Zevran," she said softly.

"I received your letter and escaped from the Free Marches," he told her simply. "Do you approve of my disguise? I quite like what's under yours, as I recall."

Leliana laughed, looking him over. His hair was down with a hat that covered his ear tips, and the tunic was bulky enough that it gave him more substance. "Very much, but I enjoy what's under yours, too."

"Then when this night is done, we may need to rid ourselves of them," he told her agreeably, offering his hand to lead her out to dance. Leliana reached to place her hand in his, pressing in a bit when his opposite hand rested at her hip.

"I'm surprised to see you reporting to me in person," she said, leaning in so they could speak with more privacy.

"I had to thank you in person. It was a pleasure to have your assistance after the affairs in the Free Marches," he told her smoothly. "Lord Enzo was certainly not as lively at the end of the day, and my former associates were none too happy as a result. I knew that you would have been the one to obfuscate the Crows."

"You have done us a tremendous service. Do you truly know what the Inquisition is facing?" Leliana asked, letting Zevran spin them both in time with the music.

"I know enough. Mad Grey Wardens, undead Magisters, the Chantry, mages, templars? It's good for her that she has someone to help her relieve her stress or else I may have to try a hands-on approach, yes?" He waggled his eyebrows under the mask.

Leliana barked out a laugh. "Oh, I have missed you, my friend, even if you were a terrible tease in those days during the Blight."

"As I have you," Zevran told her. "I've been to see Alistair briefly, took a stop to see our other friends, and headed right here. Saved the best for last."

"How long will you be here?" she wondered.

"A few nights only. I will be on my way, but you know how to get a hold of me. I still have a list of Venatori targets thanks to your research," he replied. He spun her again, this time into a recessed side area. "I can make myself available to you while I am here."

"You're never going to stop trying, are you?" Leliana laughed lightly.

"Even after succeeding once," he replied.

"I was drunk," she said.

"You were curious." He smirked.

"I was, and lonely." Her sad smile spoke volumes.

Zevran sighed. "I would say that you still are."

Leliana looked away, anywhere but at him, but then she gave in and looked him in the eyes.

"Maybe I am."

Before either of them could say anything else, the bell rang to indicate the last dance for the evening would begin. With no further words, Zevran released the Nightingale gently, bowed to her formally, and backed into the crowd of dancers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here, still writing. I've been really sick since November, so my updates have been delayed. Also, Mass Effect Andromeda comes out next week. Yeaaaah.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan shows her hand, and Solas confesses to... something.

Solas regarded the work just begun on the second to panel of the wall. The final battle was to be a decisive battle, one for the future of Thedas, of the Fade, of even his own fate. Even so, his heart felt tight in his chest, considering the person at the center of it.

I would give it up for her, he thought to himself, hating the feeling that he might yet betray her. He let out a long sign, his brush stroke flowing as he he painted. A moment later, and Solas knew he wasn't alone.

"Commander?" he asked, setting down his tools almost casually. He turned around, standing and smoothing down his tunic.

"I didn't intend to disturb your work, Solas," Cullen said. His expression was guarded, but the elf could tell there was some nervousness hidden away under the mask.

"To be honest, my muse was elusive enough," came his response, nodding to the Commander. "What seems to be on your mind?"

"What isn't on my mind right now?" Cullen huffed, shaking his head. "We're ready to approach the Arbor Wilds tomorrow. I wanted to make a... a request."

Solas frowned, but he nodded. "I am listening."

"I know the Inquisitor... Iselan is important to you, probably quite in the way she is to me," Cullen began, pacing a bit.

"We are not rivals, if that is your meaning," Solas told him. "I know Iselan has made her choice."

"That's not what I'm getting at," Cullen stated. "It is because of this fact that I'd request you be with her when approaching whatever is waiting there. I do not trust this Morrigan much, as I'm sure you do not either."

"I do not trust her hunger and what she might do if sated," Solas agreed. "I already intended to invite myself along. I will see to her safety, though I believe she is more than capable of taking care of herself."

"You've been visiting her dreams."

Solas was caught off guard by the simple way in which the Commander said it, though he quickly regained his composure. "I do not deny it. I have been teaching her in the Fade."

"She figured out it was you, even with the disguise," Cullen said. "She... told me."

"She trusts you," Solas shrugged. "But I will only stop if it is her wish that I do."

"I wasn't..." Cullen stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Okay, perhaps I felt a bit... concerned over it. This is new for me."

"As I said. We are not rivals," the elf repeated. "I conceded, though I remain her faithful friend."

Cullen gave Solas a measuring look, trying to figure something out. "I don't entirely believe what you've told us of yourself, but I have nothing to support it. That you care for Iselan is evident, and that's what I'll trust in. She faces enough danger, enough heartache. I don't want more to come at the hands of someone she trusts."

Solas remained quiet through this, nodding once. "I understand," he replied finally, neither an affirmation or denial.

The Commander lowered his hand, forcing himself to relax and accept it. "Just so we're clear. At any rate, we leave after sunrise." With a nod from Solas, he turned and left.

"The mabari shows his teeth," Solas said to himself once he was alone. "If only you knew, Commander."

\----

If Iselan was to be honest, she wanted the knowledge in the mysterious pool of water. What she did not want, however, was to be a slave to Mythal. In listening to Solas' description of the Creators and the absolute certainty in his voice, she wondered if Mythal was like the others. But she had been murdered? Then was she really different? So many questions.

She glanced in the direction that Abelas departed in, not bothering to hide the deep frown on her face or worry in her eyes. Cassandra seemed impassive, and Varric was very clearly worried. She looked back to Solas, his eyes still silently pleading with her. Tearing her eyes away from his, Iselan returned to the pool, kneeling beside it. Her face didn't reflect back at her, not exactly, but for an instant, the reflection showed a woman taller, adorned in finery, and her face free of _vallaslin_. It was the lost _vallaslin_ that surprised her the most, shook her in a more fundamental way than she could put into words.

Iselan stood, decisive, and turned to Morrigan.

"Inquisitor?" the human mage began.

"Take it and its consequences, but you will instruct me in whatever I ask," Iselan stated firmly.

"Of course," Morrigan said. "Your thirst for knowledge rivals my own. We are partners in this."

"Then it's yours," Iselan told her, and she stepped aside.

As Morrigan stepped into the Well, Iselan was more and more assured of her decision. The waters seemed to vanish at once, but to the Inquisitor's magical senses, they seemed absorbed by the witch.

"Morrigan, are you all right?" Iselan called to her, stepping into the now bone-dry Well.

" _Ellasin selah_ ," the witch began, but before Iselan could comment, they were forced to flee by the approach of Corypheus, darting through the eluvian at Morrigan's insistence.

In truth, Iselan had not a chance to sort through what just happened until she found herself laying face down on the stone floor. Behind her was Morrigan's own eluvian; they were at Skyhold.

Morrigan stood, gesturing at the eluvian to deactivate it. "It is done."

"Cullen," Iselan said immediately. "Warn him. Quickly."

Cassandra was on her feet that instant, running through the chamber door to call for one of Leliana's couriers.

"I will... I have means of communication now," Morrigan announced. "I will send another mesenger. Then I must rest."

Varric snorted after Morrigan was out of earshot. "I would write about this, but no one would _ever_ believe it. All the most reason, I think." As he walked by, however, he gave Iselan a pat on the back. "Better her than you."

Seemingly alone, Iselan lifted herself from the stone, turning to look back at the dormant eluvian. Was it the right choice?

"You would have been a slave to Mythal's will," Solas told her quietly from the side, and then he approached, urging Iselan to turn to face him. His fingers reached up, tracing the lines of her _vallaslin_. "And I would have you enslaved to no one."

"Solas, you know..." she began, but his finger stopped on her lips.

"I know," he said. "And it is for the best. I have things I would tell you, but now is not the time. Please know that I am still at your side."

Before Iselan could reply, Solas leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss at her lips. "What might have been," he told her gently. "And what will not be."

"It might have been," Iselan agreed. "But it is not." Her heart ached.

"Better for you that it is not," Solas stated with finality, and he turned to leave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this one half-written. I truly want to finish this, but real life and Mass Effect Andromeda has been taking up my time. I'm setting time aside to work on more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horsemaster Dennet makes observations.

Dennet was always up with the dawn, even if the dawn felt later or earlier. It was uncanny, his wife told him. He always knew when to greet the sun, and his personal rule was that when the sun set, so did he. At least in Skyhold, it seemed to be fairly regular. He would check the time markers and find them to be consistent.

"Damned magical," he muttered to himself.

The mounts were cared for, thankfully. He'd learned to care for more mounts than just horses. Dalish horses were also new to him, but they were surprisingly simple to learn how to work with. He could work with the lizards; they were meat-eaters and were fine with kitchen scraps. The nugs? Where in Thedas could one find giant horned nugs? At least they were mostly good-natured.

His favorites were still the horses, but Dennet admitted to himself that he had a soft spot for the harts and halla. He'd even managed to ride each of them and found the gait entirely different but not unpleasant.

"I'll have to thank the Inquisitor," he reminded himself. He'd never have an opportunity like this without the remarkable elf.

For now, however, the steeds were fed and happy, and Dennet was free to wander the grounds for a bit.

Of course his footsteps took him to the garden, where he would occasionally make requests of the apothecary, Elan. The two occasionally would discuss what sort of herbal blends would heal maladies in the non-equine mounts. Today, however, he saw her deep in conversation with Cabot, and so he kept to himself. A nice bench to sit back and people-watch would be his relaxation.

 _About time those two put aside their little messages and just decided to talk for once_ , Dennet thought, thinking back to his own courtship with his Missus.

  
Of course things were simpler then. He'd settled down, happy with his family and horses. He didn't worry about the mages or templars or qunari or elves. He was happy in his isolation, though curious about what was outside. He certainly missed having some excitement.

But here, now? Things were coming to a head with him in the thick of it. His perspective grew exponentially since then. He was no longer content to hide in ignorance and safety. What more, he saw the harm that happened in ignorance and blind belief.

Dennet shook his head, banishing his ruminations. It was just as good anyway, because a loud clamor sounded from one of the side rooms around the garden. The Inquisitor herself walked out with that odd woman, Morrignan, in tow. They were whispering hotly regarding something they clearly agreed on but were trying to come up with details for. Well, it could be called whispering with the lack of voice, but at times it was loud enough to hear. He picked out words: Flemmeth, Mythal, dragon, Corypheus.

"Well then," Dennet told himself. Things were about to get interesting. Perhaps it was time to end the break and prepare his mounts for war.

\----

As it turned out, Dennet's hunch was correct. Iselan was surprised and delighted to find him already working with his stablehands to make sure all of the animals in his care were ready to march. The mounts were spooked enough by the flaring green in the sky coming from Haven, but he had them prepared and ready for the Inquisition's forces to ride out. Dennet was almost sad about not going with them. Almost.

The Inquisitor was approaching across the yard, Dennet noted, and so he finished adjusting the straps on her halla's harness.

" _Bel'las_ ," he told the halla, using her name, "You take care of your mistress. Carry her to battle safely, and wait bravely to bring her home again."

 _Bel'las_ let out a warm snort against the human's hand, nuzzling a bit as if she understood. _Of course she did_ , Dennet considered. Halla are smart creatures, fiercely loyal to those who've earned their trust.

"How's my girl?" Iselan wondered aloud as she approached.

"Ready to carry you safely to and from battle," Dennet replied, handing the reigns to the elven woman.

"Thank you," Iselan said, and then, after a moment of consideration, she reached out to hug the older man. Surprised, Dennet returned the gesture, laughing under his breath.

"Thank you," Dennet replied. "You've given me a good purpose and a hell of a reason to retire when all's said and done."

Iselan stepped back, laughing. "I'll see you after I return."

"See that you do. Now go, I see the Commander is waiting for you, halla-rider," he said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes," was all Iselan said, and she mounted and headed to meet Cullen, who was indeed waiting for her.

Dennet let out another sigh, turning to his next mount, when he said that odd elf, Solas, standing there watching.

"Looking for a halla of your own?" Dennet offered.

"No, thank you. I will ride a horse," Solas said. He turned to look after Iselan and Cullen, an odd sadness in his eyes. "Such short lives. A blink, an instant gone. And yet they know no better."

"Death comes for us all at some point," Dennet said, positive Solas' words were not for him and not caring. "From the very ancient, to the very young. There's an end to all things as sure as there's a beginning."

"You think so?" Solas said, and then, oddly, he laughed, a short bitter bark of sound. "Sometimes things do not die so much as.... change. A spirit escaping the body. A mortal twisted into what he thinks is a god. But... perhaps it is as you say. Perhaps some things should end."

Before Dennet could reply, Solas switched the subject. "Actually, I shall ride a halla tonight, in honor of our Inquisitor. Perhaps humility shall temper pride."

Dennet truly had no idea what the elf was going on about, but he offered gruff assent all the same. "Here, this one our lady named _Tan'vir_."

"Three paths?" Solas translated, looking over the three twists in the halla's horns.

"Didn't ask her what it means, but reckon you'd know, being the scholar and whatnot," the horsemaster replied. "Well, in honesty, it's like something she and I talked about once. In life, you have the easy path, the hard path, and the path you forge for yourself when others call you a damn fool."

This time it was Solas who laughed. "That sounds like something she might say. Thank you, Horsemaster Dennet, for your unexpected insight. I will watch our Inquisitor as a wolf watches his pack." With that, he led his mount off.

It wasn't until moments after the odd elf was out of sight that Dennet remembered that the Dalish are generally cautious about wolves watching. He hoped that wasn't a bad omen.

\----

Even after the army moved out, Dennet found himself standing on the battlements, watching the army moved out. Even if his eyes were not what they once were, he was sure he saw the Inquisitor on her mount, riding close to the Commander. They were a good fit, those two.

Dennet sighed, thinking of his wife. Elaina was a strong woman and took on a great number of responsibilities. She was no docile mare; she was his partner in every sense of the word. She ran the farm, mothered their daughter Seanna, who certainly took after her mother in stubborn energy.

Iselan Lavellan, their Inquisitor, reminded him very much of Elaina. If the whisperings and things he saw for himself were true, Cullen was lucky. Dennet considered himself lucky, after all. The most any man could hope for was a woman who could hold her own, rescue herself capably, and still not be so proud that she wouldn't ask for help when she truly needed it.

"Luck. Fortune. Or the Maker," Dennet muttered under his breath. "Or the Creators, as the elves say. Or... maybe it's just what we choose for ourselves." Change, after all, doesn't happen until you make it happen, he reminded himself.

He looked up again, searching for the Inquisitor, but he didn't see her. The tail end of the army was a blur of color as it descended the mountain. He whispered a small prayer in hopes they returned safely... with all of their mounts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about Denney and his opinions, as well as his family, and so I wanted to give him a chapter.
> 
> Sorry this one is shorter than the others; I've been busy and had some health issues come about. We're wrapping it up soon!


	12. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end to things, and perhaps a new start.

War was never pretty, and it certainly wasn't kind. One often lost people they cared for in war. Iselan didn't think that she'd lose one by his own choice, but sure enough, in the months that followed, there was no sign of Solas. She'd been to see Leliana for reports daily, but the days turned to weeks, and now she didn't ask at all. The Spymaster let out a sigh. There were still other things to attend to, such as her move to Val Royeaux for her coronation as Divine.

"Coronation. Pah," Leliana had said to herself. It was, as she expected, a rather overblown procession that was quite unlike her more secretive and darker nature. A spymaster, now in charge of the Faithful in a very public way? Unthinkable, but there she was. Even if the public eye was ever vigilant over her actions, Leliana, now Divine Victoria, had her networks firmly in place, and it soon became known that not much passed her notice.

"The Divine sees all, knows all. The Maker whispers in her ear," some would say.

"Idiots," Leliana would say in private. "Do they not hear the Chant? It says the Maker has turned from us." The statement would usually be followed by a noticeable eye-roll. No, she merely had been too good at her prior job. Old habits die hard, so they say.

Changes needed to be made as well. First thing was ending the Circles. Of course, this meant something new would take its place, but the Mages could decide for themselves. New races could join the faithful in the clergy. All who believed should be able to serve the Maker.

It was due to her friend, the Inquisitor, that she was more tolerant and eager to hear what others had to say. Her words had merit and carried weight now, and thankfully, people accepted what she had to say, for now. No need for bloodshed, and the Chantry remained whole and secure.

It was on this day, watching from her balcony at the garden across outer section of the Winter Palace, that she considered her friend. The Inquisition was in Val Royeaux for the Exalted Council, but it didn't mean that everything happening had to be negative. Even with the intrigue, even with the evidence of Qunari involvement, there was a piece of joy, just across the way.

"Cullen, Iselan, I pray the Maker blesses your union and sees you though these troubled times," Leliana whispered, sending the prayer with all of her heart and soul. The moment of peace she felt seeing her friends seal their marriage with a lingering kiss felt like she was already in the Maker's arms.

If only the Maker was listening.

\----

He had, of course, paid attention to Iselan. There was no way he could not. His spies told him of the wedding to Cullen, and though it broke another fragment of his heart, he was truly happy for her. Some old part of him lamented that their children would not truly be elven, but then again, there were some for whom the blood ran stronger. Perhaps this would be another thing Iselan might prove wrong.

Solas sighed, examining the _eluvian_ and thinking it was foolish wishing that he might evade Iselan in this. There would be a meeting, and with that, he must be prepared to give her the truth.

"The truth," he found himself muttering under his breath. "And what truth is there to tell, I wonder?" All those who had trusted him were dead or at least harmed. Everyone he loved fell to ruin. Iselan had wisely chosen to heed his request to think otherwise of their shared kiss in the Fade.

Still, he wondered.

In times like these, he sometimes wondered what would have happened if he'd pushed for what he wanted more, hadn't chased her off into the safe embrace of another man. Was it so bad to want something for himself?

But no, he'd have taken her slave markings, her vallaslin, and sent her back to her Inquisition. Sooner or later, he'd have made that choice to protect her...

..or himself.

"Foolish."

Solas knew nothing in his plans would protect her. At most, Iselan could expect a few years of peace before he brought the Veil down.

I could save her, he thought. I could turn back and let things be. Let her handle things and guide the world.

But no, his interference had ended a proud and noble race and brought ruin on everything he knew and cared for. It must be broken to be rebuilt. This was always the plan.

Emotions only complicated things.

A loud rumbling broke his thoughts, scattered his ruminations like seed heads of a dandelion in a stiff breeze. The Qunari were coming, and they would not stop until he stopped them. They were close, very close.

Solas waited for them patiently, and as the first few approached, he turned them to stone with a flash of his eyes. Would the first batch serve as a proper warning? Clearly not as more came to press forward.

_These Qunari, he thought. What a single-minded lot._

No, that wasn't true. There were some who broke away, and some who learned better through experience. He considered The Iron Bull as those others approached. If not for Iselan telling the hulking brute to follow his heart and save his men, likely the Viddasala's commands would have been heeded. He was rather pleased that Iselan wouldn't lose another friend to this pointless conflict.

As if summoned by the mere thought of her name, the Viddasala herself approached, calling out defiantly to the seemingly placid elf.

" _Ebasit kata, itwa-ost_." Solas addressed her in her native tongue, his hands calmly placed behind his back. It has ended. You have all fallen.

" _Maraas kata!_ " The Viddasala roared back defiantly. Of course she would deny it. Single-minded, indeed.  
"Your force has vailed. Leave no, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further," he told her dismissively, turning his back. Of course she would attack, Solas reasoned, but he would give her the chance.

The roar from the Viddasala was all he needed. In a flash, the Qunari was stone, like her brethren, frozen in a final defiant gesture.

Tragic, really.

But the greater tragedy was still to come. It was her, the one he might have thrown this all away for, standing there, watching with wide eyes, gripping a wrist attached to a hand that sparked painfully. Of course Iselan had seen it all. Of course she still approached.

"Solas..." Iselan only managed to get the word out before the pain of the Anchor brought her to her knees before him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, some lewd image of her on her knees in a different manner came forward, the image he'd allow himself alone when in the Fade. He quickly banished it and brought his power again to the fore, relieving some of the pain.

Even with her again standing tall and strong again, he could only apologize.

" _Ir abelas..._ " He took a breath. " _...vhenan._ "

" _Tel'abels!_ " Iselan countered. "If you loved me, tell me the truth!"

So she knew. Of course she knew. And he was certain she knew it was he who had visited her in the Fade all of those times. Oh, Iselan was no fool, and certainly not the inferior shemlen he first considered her to be.

And so he told her. He told her what she needed to know, and she asked the hard questions he would never have wanted to answer aloud. It was a confession and in some ways, a cleansing of his heart. It felt good to confess to her. It felt good to be himself in Iselan's presence. What also felt good was that she accepted these things about him without judgment or reservation, just as she always did.

What did not feel good was what he knew came next. He already knew the Anchor was killing the elven woman, and wasn't in the least bit surprised that it flared up again. When Iselan fell to her knees, he, too, knelt before her.

"I won't give up on you," Iselan cried out through the pain, reaching out to grip his arm.

"I wish that you would," Solas told her, pressing his palm to her damaged one, fingers interlocking.

"P-please," she begged, tears streaming from her eyes.

" _Ir abelas_ ," Solas repeated, and then, quite unable (or unwilling) to stop himself, he kissed her goodbye, eyes flashing a misty grey before he closed them. He didn't expect Iselan to give into the kiss, but she did, understanding that this, for them, was meant to be closure. The hand that gripped his fingers dissolved into dust.

"Goodbye," he told her. "I shall never forget you." With that, Solas stood and turned from her, walking into the _eluvian_ ahead.

\----

"I tell you, I should have gone with her!" Cullen bit back at Cassandra, who clearly had no problem literally getting in his face as she argued.

"She chose her team, and you are needed to keep the army here in check, Commander," the Seeker retorted, practically snarling the words. "Do not let your love for her cloud your judgement."Cullen stood there, stricken, and then, deflated, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know," was all he said. There was a strong nudge at his leg, and his new mabari companion looked up at him in concern. "It's all right," he told the canine.

"Call a healer!" a loud voice called from the courtyard behind them, and The Iron Bull pressed past those in his way, bringing the Inquisitor into the building the Inquisition used as a temporary headquarters.

"Go to her," Cassandra said. "I will tell Leliana."

Already healers and medics rushed in, preparing a place for them to work on the Inquisitor. The elven woman was in shock, bleeding from just below her forearm. Cullen wouldn't move from her side, holding her intact right hand while the bleeding on the left was being handled.

"There's fragments of stone stuck in here," a mage said. "It will need to be amputated."

"Amputated?!" Cullen looked up in surprise, ready to protest, and then a rather strong hand pulled on his arm.

"Come on, Curly. Let them save your lady's life," Varric insisted, and even Cullen couldn't break the dwarf's grip or find reasons to argue with that phrasing. "And we're not staying to watch either."

The two moved outside, taking a bench by the wall. Thankfully, the sounds from inside were muted and no one else seemed to detect a problem. The only difference was the presence of the Iron Bull and his lover posted outside of the entrance to turn away the curious.

"What happened out there, Varric?" Cullen insisted. "Was that the only way to save her from the Anchor? Why not wait to remove the bloody thing here?"

"None of us did it," Varric said. "Solas did. She saw him. He took her hand and left her there. She made it back through that _eluvian_ thing and promptly passed out. She was babbling something in _elvhen_ , but of course I only know a few words here and there." The dwarf sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "She called out for Solas, but she also called out for you."

The Commander felt his entire body stiffen at the thought. Solas left them, of course, but would he intentionally hurt the Inquisitor? Of course he knew how the elf felt for her. They had long ago put that aside, so he thought.

"Maybe it was to save her life," Cullen finally decided. That said, he fell into silence, watching the door intently until he was called in to see his wife.

The dwarf released another sigh. Was this over? They still had this Exalted Council thing to get through, and the Inquisitor was in no shape to continue.

"Do not worry," a heavily-accented voice said, and Cassandra sat down next to him. "She lost a lot of blood, but the medics say those pieces of stone were what was keeping her from bleeding out. They did have to remove part of her forearm, but she will live. Leliana has managed a break in the Council to give Iselan time to recover."

"You know she'll forgive him," Cullen said. "Solas did this to her. She will forgive him."

"And you will not," Cassandra said plainly.

"I don't know. One one hand, it saved her life. On the other, if he has betrayed us this entire time, I'm not sure _that_ is something I can forgive."

The Seeker nodded. "Then do not decide now. Only be glad Iselan is with us and alive."

"I am," Cullen said in response. "Believe me, I am. Somehow, though, I don't see things being the same after this."

"No, my friend," Cassandra agreed, and she let out a sigh as one of the medics approached them.

\----

It's not easy to just up and disband an entire Inquisition. There are allowances that need to be made for things like providing for families leaving Skyhold and the troops stationed around Thedas. Iselan, however, had words with Cassandra, and so what remained of the Inquisition was indeed now a neutral military arm of the Chantry, a peacekeeping force.

_"Won't you reconsider?" Leliana asked of her friend for the umpteenth time._

_"Skyhold belongs to Solas," Iselan said, idly fingering the loose end of her sleeve. Sometimes she could swear she still felt both the Anchor and her lost hand."I mean about trying to save Solas," Leliana corrected. "Skyhold, I understand. I've made arrangements for monitoring it."_

_Iselan looked down at her missing hand. "Oh. Yes. Well, no, I think he can be reasoned with. As long as I'm not ill from a magical ailment that causes unbearable pain, I should be able to speak."_

_"What makes you think he will listen?" Leliana wondered, glad for once she didn't wear her massive robes while her friend visited.Iselan gave a weak laugh. "He loves me."_

_"While you married another," the former spymaster emphasized._

_"Well, yes. And I don't love him the way he loves me," the elf replied. "But maybe it will be enough to endure."_

  
That had been only a month ago, and already Iselan and Cullen were hard at work in Ferelden, helping former Templars recover from lyrium addiction. Only a few knew that was only what happened on the surface, that there was more underneath to prepare for the coming storm. One thing everyone did know, is that the former Inquisitor was a different person than the scared Dalish who fell from the sky that day years ago. Her perspective shifted due to experiences, as did those of the people Iselan had been around, and likely, this was for the better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's done! It really was just a writing exercise, a practice in telling a story from the perspectives of the other characters instead of the primary protagonist. I liked exploring some of these other characters, and I appreciate all of you for joining me on this one.
> 
> I think another thing for me in writing is that I rarely see a romance between adults written realistically. Emotions are multi-faceted and nuanced, and you can love more than one person in different ways. I wanted to try to convey that, too.
> 
> As for future writing, I'm going to take a break from the Bioware stuff for a little. I'm still mad over how badly the Mass Effect franchise has been treated, so I may shift back to another universe to play in. Of course, I'm still writing my book and will post about that when the first one is published. 
> 
> Thank you all for staying with me for this process!


End file.
